


Playing Him

by Josselin



Series: Laurent Is a Girl [1]
Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Bath Sex, Birth Control, Bondage, Brother/Sister Incest, Canonical Child Abuse, Casual References to Mental Illness, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Consensual Sibling Incest, Consensual Underage Sex, Double Penetration, Double Penetration in Two Holes, Drunk Sex, F/M, Female Laurent - Freeform, Impact Play, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Manipulation, Multi, Not as much spanking as you would expect in a fic by Joss for Mist, Oral Sex, Past Child Abuse, Porn Watching, Probably less watersports than there should be, Rimming, Sex Toys, Sexual Roleplay, Shaving, Sibling Incest, Threesome - F/M/M, Under-negotiated Kink, Unplanned Pregnancy, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Watersports, Waxing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-20 06:13:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 21
Words: 55,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17017260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Josselin/pseuds/Josselin
Summary: A modern day AU in which Laurent is inexplicably (and has always been) a girl, and she moves from her uncle’s house to her brother’s apartment.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Seek_The_Mist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seek_The_Mist/gifts).



> Dear Mist, I really hope you like this Captive Prince 2018 Secret Santa gift! Don't fall over that I wrote 82K of fic in this 'verse. 
> 
> Dear the rest of the fandom, I am so so so so sorry, haahahahahahaha. Please don't shun me.

When Laurent was almost fifteen years old, her uncle was arrested for embezzlement. Laurent had something to do with that, though she sat in the corner with wide eyes as his home office was raided by the FBI. 

She moved from her uncle’s house, which had been spread on a seventeen-acre estate outside the city with its own pool and tennis court, to her brother’s apartment in the city. Auguste’s apartment was luxurious--it was on the thirty-fourth floor of a posh building with a doorman--but it was a two bedroom where the largest room was Auguste’s bedroom.

Laurent idolized her older brother, and had since she was a baby and he was twelve and able to swing her around above his head. But at twenty-seven, he obviously didn’t know the first thing about teenagers. He worked a great deal. He left the house early in the morning for the gym, went straight to work, and then took clients or coworkers out in the evening, often coming back after Laurent had already gone to bed. 

So sometimes, when Laurent needed a ride home from school or some other sort of assistance, Auguste asked his friends to help him out, which was how Laurent met Damen.


	2. Auguste's Sister

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Damen observes that Laurent is manipulating Auguste, but fails to observe a similar phenomenon on himself when she asks him for advice.

Auguste’s sister was totally playing him.

She’d moved in with Auguste a few months prior, and Auguste confessed he wasn’t quite sure what to do with her, and he talked seriously when they were out for drinks about what her counselor said, or the parenting book that he’d read, but Damen could tell just watching the two of them together that she was lying to him. 

Laurent was fifteen, thin and blonde with hair almost to her waist. She was maybe half of Auguste’s size, and yet she ruled his apartment now. She would just announce something in an imperious voice. Of course her uncle had let her--wear makeup, stay out past ten, eat three bowls of ice cream--and Auguste would be staring at his phone and say distractedly, “Okay, I guess,” and Laurent would smile smugly and proceed to do whatever it was she wanted.

One time, when they were hanging out at Auguste’s place with beer and Laurent had retreated to her bedroom to sleep, Damen gave Auguste some advice.

“Dude, your sister is playing you.”

Auguste looked genuinely surprised. “What do you mean?”

“She’s got you wrapped around her finger!” Damen laughed.

Auguste frowned. “Her counselor says--” Auguste took everything Laurent’s counselor said super-seriously, though it sounded pretty common sense to Damen. 

“Do you really think anyone needs three bowls of ice cream?”

“What?” said Auguste. “Laurent is an angel, and she’s had a really hard time--”

“Because your uncle went to prison for embezzling money from some rich company?”

Auguste looked shifty, suddenly. “Er, well--there’s, he was, I shouldn’t--”

Auguste’s tone hinted that there was more there that he didn’t exactly want to talk about, so Damen let the subject drop. Auguste was weird about Laurent, anyway. He let her do whatever she wanted, whether it was spend a ridiculous quantity of money on a jacket or sit on his lap while they were watching a horror movie, and it was kind of hard for Damen--who was just a twenty-four year old baker, after all--to try to tell his friend that girls didn’t need three hundred dollar jackets or that Laurent definitely seemed too old for lapsitting. 

Damen also didn’t know how to tell Auguste that his sister was smoking hot. He tried not to look too much and didn’t mention it.

Auguste worked a lot, so when Laurent stayed after school for something Auguste was often texting their group of friends to ask if someone could pick her up. Jord volunteered a fair amount, and Govart had said he’d do it once and then Auguste had said nevermind he could do it. 

Damen had early hours, at the bakery, so he was often available when Auguste needed help. If he didn’t have something in the oven, he was willing to go pick up Laurent at school.

Laurent was wearing her three hundred dollar jacket and her hair was loose.

“Hey.”

“Hi Laurent,” Damen said. “Your brother said--”

“Let me guess,” said Laurent. “The client is an idiot, he’s running late, he doesn’t know when he’ll be home.”

“Yeah, pretty much.” Damen pulled away from the school.

They were halfway to Auguste’s place and Damen had just missed a light, when Laurent said, “What’s the best way to touch a woman?”

Damen sputtered and looked over at Laurent. She had her backpack on her lap and looked back at him evenly. “Why are you asking that?”

Laurent gave him a withering glare.

“Have you--met someone?” said Damen.

“I’m not a baby,” said Laurent.

“Maybe you should talk to Auguste about this.”

“He has some new woman every week,” said Laurent. “I’m not sure he knows anything.”

Auguste did make something of a habit of one night stands, Damen knew, though he had pulled often enough with Auguste to have slightly more confidence in Auguste’s talents.

The light changed, and Laurent started playing with the strap on the end of her backpack. “There...might be...a girl,” she said, so quiet that Damen could barely hear her.

Damen tried to be supportive. Coming out was hard. “What’s her name?”

Laurent mumbled something he couldn’t make out.

The car was quiet. On the street a cab driver was swearing at a homeless person. Damen wished he had put on the radio but didn’t think he could put it on now.

Damen was picturing Laurent with a girl. He thought of another one of her, and then made the second her’s hair darker in his head, and then he pictured them sitting next to each other at lunch at school, and holding hands in the hallway, and maybe making out a little bit outside the school as she stood out front waiting for Damen to get her. Or did Laurent invite her friend over to Auguste’s house? Had the two of them been in Laurent’s room, on the messy bed Damen had seen through the open door--

Actual Laurent interrupted Damen’s fantasies as he pulled up outside her brother’s apartment. “I didn’t really think you would be useful,” she said, sounding as though she had suspected this all along, and tossing her hair. 

Somehow this led to Damen spending the evening searching for the most tasteful of his favorite lesbian porn links and texting them to his workout buddy’s teenager sister.

He told himself it was a bad idea while he was searching for links, and as he was about to hit send on his text message, and then he doubly told himself it was a bad idea after he’d hit send.

He stared at his phone for a terrified moment, as though it might immediately explode or something, and then he checked frantically if Laurent were replying--she was not--and then he set the phone aside for a bit and only let himself check it three times a minute for an indicator Laurent was typing.

That was fine, Damen told himself, lying in bed that night. He helped her out; they would never speak of it again.

It wasn’t until the following night, when Damen was falling into bed and setting his alarm for an early morning at the bakery, that his phone buzzed.

He looked at it, and then his heart beat extra quick when he saw it was Laurent.

Laurent: what’s that called, in the 2nd link

Damen had to watch the video again. He couldn’t stop thinking about Laurent watching it. It was very easy for thinking of Laurent watching the video to turn into thinking about Laurent in the video. One of the women in the video drew her partner into the bedroom, and Damen again imagined Laurent in Auguste’s apartment, closing the door to her bedroom behind her and some other girl that looked remarkably like her.

The model in the second link looked remarkably like Laurent, actually. How had he not noticed that when he had first watched this video?

It didn’t stop with the texting, either. The following week, when he was over at Auguste’s place waiting for Auguste to be ready to go out--Auguste was having some kind of hair problem, Damen wasn’t clear on the details--Laurent came up to him in the middle of the living room, held up her smartphone with one of the videos open and the clip paused, and said, “Look at this, I don’t understand what she’s doing.”

Damen looked frantically over at Auguste’s bedroom. The door was open but Auguste was still inside, getting ready. 

Damen tried to convince himself that he wasn’t a child abuser. He was just educating someone. He believed in sex education. He believed in feminism. If Laurent wanted to know about sex, he supported her. He was just teaching her, so that she could--apparently be amazing at fingering her girlfriend, for how much she was studying this video.

No one had helped Damen with such useful advice at fifteen, and most of the sex he’d had at fifteen had been awful, though he’d liked it well enough at the time. He was just trying to be helpful.


	3. The Toys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Laurent asks Damen for assistance procuring sex toys.

The following week, Laurent spoke up again while Damen was driving her home from school. 

“I want to buy something,” she said.

Damen made a right turn and cursed when he ended up in the wrong lane.

“But I don’t want Auguste to know. Can I pay you cash to buy it online and ship it to your house and get it from you?”

Damen could hear the suspicion in his own voice. “What is it?”

“A vibrator,” said Laurent coolly.

Damen wasn’t sure how this became him taking her over to his place. They went on her way home from school, and he picked an afternoon when he thought his roommate Nikandros was going to be out, because he didn’t want to explain what he was doing to Nikandros.

Damen’s apartment was in a crummier part of the city than Auguste’s, and they had to walk up four flights to stairs to get to it, because the elevator was not even remotely reliable.

Once they were in his apartment, Laurent began an impassioned speech about the feminist empowerment of self pleasure. Damen nodded agreeably and stood behind the counter because he was really inappropriately turned on.

“Where’s your computer?” Laurent concluded.

“Uh,” said Damen, and then he cursed himself for having left his laptop on his bed, because Laurent sprawled out across the middle of it and co-opted one of his pillows to tuck under her chin. Damen walked back behind the counter. “I’ll just let you--”

Laurent’s attention was occupied by the computer. 

Damen stared at his microwave. He shouldn’t look, he told himself. He shouldn’t look. He was doing Laurent a favor and that didn’t involve spying on her choice of vibrator. He could always look at his account history later and--he shouldn’t do that either.

He caved, and walked over to the other end of the kitchen to try to see if he could spy Laurent’s screen.

She had something absolutely ridiculous pulled up, it was hot pink and bulbous and-- “Oh sweetheart, no,” he said.

Laurent turned her head to look at him over her shoulder. “You said--”

“You can’t buy toys from there,” he said, objecting. The website was tacky and demeaning to women. “And not that toy.”

Laurent leveled a look at him. 

Damen tried an appeal to her impassioned feminist side. “Look, I know a woman-owned store--”

“Fine,” said Laurent.

“It’s--” Damen started to spell out the URL from the kitchen.

“Oh my god,” said Laurent. “Just come over here.”

Damen ended up next to her on the bed, stretched out on his stomach. Laurent scooted too close to him and he could feel her warm against his side. He was never going to be able to stand up without his erection being really obvious in his workout pants.

Even on a better website, Laurent’s taste seemed to gravitate to enormous toys.

Damen squirmed. “Laurent, that is not--feasible.”

She glanced at him. “I think I like big.”

Damen’s eyes widened. “Have you--put things there--before?”

“Where?” said Laurent, her eyes on the screen. A model was presenting the toy in a video. The toy seemed as thick as her wrist.

“Inside,” said Damen, sounding choked.

Laurent looked over at him, and Damen’s attention turned from the video to Laurent’s face. He hadn’t noticed before how her blue eyes were flecked with brown. 

Laurent’s expression was put-upon, as though Damen were asking ridiculous questions. “Are you saying you haven’t?”

Damen’s brow creased. He had, actually, but, “Nothing that big!”

Laurent sighed and handed Damen the mouse. 

Damen picked a toy that one of the women who owned the store recommended as a good first vibrator. “What about this?”

Laurent insisted on watching the entire presentation video for each toy they looked at, and while she watched she made little considering noises in her throat.

After the third video they had watched, Laurent seemed particularly interested in a toy. She was reading the measurements.

“How big do you think that is?” she said, forming her forefinger and thumb into a circle and eyeballing the size.

Damen thought she was underestimating. “I think it’s like--” he held up his own forefinger and thumb circle, larger than hers.

She held up her hand thoughtfully, and then put her forefinger through the circle that Damen was holding up. Damen swallowed hard.

Laurent turned back to the screen for the length measurement, and used Damen’s hand as a ruler, measuring out length with her fingertips. “Three, four,” she said under her breath.

She finished her count in the middle of Damen’s palm, and then spanned her fingers from the tip of his finger to that point, considering the distance.

Then, keeping her grip on Damen’s hand, she rolled onto her side, and pulled Damen’s hand to press it against her lower stomach, looking down with the same considering expression. She looked up at Damen. “What happens if it doesn’t fit, completely? It doesn’t work as well?”

Damen tore his hand away. 

He ended up frantically getting Laurent to order four different toys in an effort to end the experience, and then he ran to his bathroom to jerk off desperately.

He washed his hands and came out of the bathroom to find Laurent sitting at the kitchen table, talking to Nikandros.

“Why are you here?” said Nikandros, looking suspicious.

“Damen was just helping me buy something,” said Laurent.

Nikandros’s frown deepened. He shot Damen a look over Laurent’s shoulder. “Buy what?”

Damen had no idea how Laurent was going to answer that. He was in deep shit--

“A present for my brother!” said Laurent. “It’s a secret.”

Damen felt flooded with relief. That was a really good excuse. It was just an excuse, right? She wasn’t actually--

“I should take her home,” Damen said, and picked up his keys and beckoned Laurent toward the door. 

Auguste invited him over for movie night that weekend with the excuse that Laurent really liked his pizza, which swelled Damen’s ego a little--he made fucking awesome pizza--and he ended up with a beer on their couch. Laurent was curled up in Auguste’s lap as usual, and his hand was resting on her hip.

Damen found himself staring at Auguste’s hand. It was probably about the same size as Damen’s hand. And his fingers stretched out along her--

Damen tore his eyes back to the screen and tried to focus on the movie. He had no idea what it was about.

The next Monday, Damen had a package next to the mailboxes at his apartment. He carried it up to his place, took it into his bedroom, and locked the door in case Nikandros came home.

He supposed he should tell Laurent her packages had arrived, but he was also tempted to the coward’s route of not mentioning it or pretending that they had been lost in the mail. He’d been trying to avoid Laurent since the ordering debacle--well, except for the pizza thing, and how Auguste had asked him to pick her up at the library, and--well, he’d been trying, anyway. 

Maybe he should open the box. Probably he shouldn’t. He should just turn the whole box over to Laurent and be done with it. But he should at least check that the right things arrived, right? The box had his name on the front of it, it might be something else. Or maybe they didn’t send the right things, or--Damen used his keys to slice the packing tape.

He counted the items in the box, then closed it up again and put it in his closet. Then he covered it with a sweatshirt for good measure. 

Damen was on school pickup duty on Wednesday, so when Laurent got into the car he said, “Your package arrived.”

Laurent glanced around the car. “Where is it?” 

Why hadn’t Damen brought it along with him, he asked himself. That would have been the best idea. “My place.”

“Let’s go get it.”

Damen tried to think of a reason not to, and couldn’t come up with one, so he drove to his place instead of Auguste’s. Laurent walked ahead of him up the four flights of stairs, and Damen kept looking at her ass. It was right in front of him; it wasn’t like he could avoid looking.

Once in his apartment, he went to his closet. Laurent followed him, and so they were in his bedroom when he handed her the box. 

She set it down on his bed and started to open it up.

“What are you doing?” he said, alarmed.

Laurent gave him one of her patented glares. “Checking them, obviously. What if something is defective and I need to return it?”

Laurent took one of the plastic-wrapped toys out of the box and looked at it. “Scissors,” she told Damen. “And some batteries.”

Damen watched, increasingly turned on, as Laurent put batteries into the first toy and tested the different levels of vibration on her own wrist. She shrugged after testing it, and threw the toy into her backpack and picked up the second package.

The second one seemed to present more difficulty. Once the batteries were in, Laurent turned the dial. Nothing seemed to happen. “It’s broken,” said Laurent.

“I think you have to--” said Damen, remembering a girlfriend who had had a similar toy. He held out his hand.

Laurent handed the toy to him, and he showed her the other switch on it. “You flip this, then the dial works.”

Laurent’s fingers were warm on his as she took back the vibrating toy. She remained standing right next to him as she spun the dial with delicate fingers and considered the vibrating sensation on her wrist.

By the time Laurent finally had all of the toys in her bag, Damen was out of batteries, and broke down the box and took a bag of all of the toy packaging out to the dumpster so that Nikandros wouldn’t see it in the bin.

That was the end of it, he told himself. He was definitely not going to imagine Laurent using the toys. And if he did think about it, maybe occasionally, or maybe frantically almost all of the time, then at least what happened in the privacy of his own head wasn’t hurting anyone.

A few days later, Laurent texted him. The first text was a picture of one of the toys they had bought. The second was a text message.

Laurent: it doesn’t work

Damen: but we tested it

Laurent: IT DOESNT WORK

What did that mean? Had the toy broken after they had tested it out in Damen’s apartment? Did she mean it didn’t--fit? He lost some moments picturing that. Laurent spread out on her messy bed in Auguste’s apartment, her legs spread, one hand pressing the toy between her legs and a dissatisfied expression on her face.

He was afraid to ask and he also couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Finally he texted her back.

Damen: what do you mean

Then, he stuck his phone in his pocket, terrified of her reply.

His phone dinged with a message and he was afraid to look.

Then the phone started ringing. He took it out of his pocket and it was Laurent.

After a very long moment, Damen accepted the call. “Hello?”

“Auguste wants to know if you want to come over for Chinese.” Her tone was bored.

Damen couldn’t process. “Uh.”

“Or not,” Laurent continued. “Because he’s ordering from the gross place on Fifth--”

Auguste was apparently with her, because he shouted in the background that it was the best place.

“Fine,” said Damen quickly. 

“So you’re coming?” siad Laurent. Damen misheard what she meant, and then forced himself to reinterpret. The words echoed in Damen’s head.

“Yes, I’m--in for Chinese.”

Damen managed semi-normalcy while they ate Chinese. Or, at least, he and Auguste ate it, and Laurent complained a lot and pushed food around her plate with a chopstick.

After, Auguste cracked open a beer and offered Damen one.

Damen hesitated. “Maybe I should go.”

“You have a date?” Auguste asked, interested. Damen and Auguste had something of a habit of talking their girlfriends into threesomes with the other man, so it was natural for Auguste to be intrigued if Damen had a new romance.

“No.”

“So have a beer,” said Auguste.

Laurent cleared her plate into the kitchen and went into the living room, curling up on the sofa with a book and her phone.

Damen accepted a beer. Auguste complained about work. He complained about work a lot. Damen had things that annoyed him at work as well--women who wanted cakes that had zero calories and still tasted good--but Auguste’s job seemed really hard.

Damen was listening and making sympathetic noises, when his phone started buzzing.

He glanced at it under the table. It was Laurent.

He could see her in the other room, but she wasn’t looking their direction, heads down on her phone.

He snuck a glance at one of the messages, and it said something about “fit” and he couldn’t even look. How could she just be sitting there? Damen stuck his phone determinedly away in his bag.

Auguste could tell he was distracted, and nodded at his phone. “New girl?”

“No,” Damen said, too quick.

Auguste’s attention was piqued. “New boy?” Damen’s friends all knew he was bi.

“No one,” said Damen.

“Who’s messaging you?” said Auguste.

“Uh,” said Damen. “No one. Nikandros.”

“I thought he was working tonight.”

“He is,” Damen said. “Uh.”

Auguste was visibly confused about why Damen was refusing to dish. Damen tried to get him talking about work again. 

“Go get more beer from the fridge,” Auguste told him. 

Damen took the excuse to get away from the conversation and stood up. When he had his head in the fridge, he heard a noise, and turned back to see Auguste taking Damen’s phone out of his bag.

“Don’t!” Damen said, too serious, and he ran back to the table and half-tackled Auguste off his chair with a flying leap.

Damen got his phone back, but the screen ended up cracked in their scuffle, and both of them ended up bruised. Auguste was pissed off and Damen was mad and Damen left in a huff, Auguste shouting, “If she doesn’t want to threesome, just tell me, god!” behind him.

Once home and locked in his own room, Damen opened Laurent’s messages. He read them backwards chronologically. The most recent one was:

Laurent: maybe give me a different name in your phone

Laurent’s earlier messages were about her dissatisfaction with her vibrator. She had started with the small one for beginners that Damen had told her to use first, but it didn’t get her off, and she was annoyed.

Damen: r u sure u are doing it right  
Laurent: i’m not stupid  
Damen: tell me what u did  
Laurent: I’m doing it now

Damen might die. He was going to expire from lack of blood to the brain, because all of his blood was centering in his cock. He had never been this turned on. 

Damen: ok but what

Laurent’s approach was apparently to stick the slim toy inside herself and then turn it on.

The mental image was definitely working for Damen. He would have no problem getting off on seeing that. But he could see why that wasn’t doing it for Laurent.

Damen: ok that will not work  
Laurent: why is this so hard

Damen was also asking himself that, with a slightly different reference.

Damen: u need to build up to it. Touch where u are sensitive

There was a very long moment of “Laurent is typing” which Damen found interminable. 

Then, after she had been typing for almost three minutes:

Laurent: it doesn't work

Damen took a deep breath.

Damen: what went wrong

There was another long pause. Then, Damen saw on his phone an indicator that Laurent had sent a picture and it was loading. He was so freaked out that he dropped the phone before the photo finished loading.

He imagined it for a minute. A picture of her using the vibrator, maybe close up on it inside of her, her slim fingers holding it and touching herself next to it. A pearl of wetness dripping from her to land on the toy.

He should definitely not look at this picture, he thought. If Auguste saw his phone right now, he’d be dead, he told himself. Or in jail. Or dead in jail. He told himself he had to put a stop to this.

He looked at the picture.

It was just a screencap of the toy’s website where there was some text about how fun it was.

Laurent: yeah right

Damen found himself half relieved and entirely disappointed by this picture. This was good, he told himself. He didn’t want to go to jail.

His phone rang.

Laurent’s picture popped up. “Accept call?” his phone asked him. Laurent’s picture on his phone was some shot of her and Auguste together where she was in her school uniform looking adoringly at her brother.

Damen stared at the picture and felt like a terrible person.

“Hello?”

There was a moment of quiet. Damen reevaluated all of his life choices. Could he hear something humming over the phone line? He couldn't tell. He was probably imagining that, he told himself. It was fine to touch himself as long as Laurent never knew what he was doing, he told himself, opening his pants and taking his cock out.

“It’s stupid,” said Laurent finally.

Damen swallowed hard. “Tell me.”

It was like Damen could hear Laurent shrugging over the phone line.

Auguste almost catching him texting Laurent was heavy on his mind. Damen imagined Auguste finding Laurent in her room with a vibrator talking to Damen on the phone. 

“I shouldn’t be doing this,” he said.

Laurent’s tone was annoyed. “I thought you would help me.”

Damen hung up.

It was too hard to pretend to himself that he wasn’t into it. He was so into it. He could barely think of anything else, but it made him feel sick inside.


	4. Dating Jokaste

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Damen observes that his new girlfriend shockingly resembles his friend’s sister.

He started avoiding Auguste and Laurent. Auguste invited him over and he said he was busy. Laurent asked him about pancake dinner and he said he couldn’t make it.

Finally, Auguste called him in a panic that his flight was delayed and Laurent was stranded at practice, could Damen get her. 

Damen agreed, reluctantly, and took the woman he’d sort of started to go out with along with him. He’d been out with Jokaste a few times, and he felt like things were headed in a promising direction.

Laurent climbed into the back seat of his car glaring at Jokaste with what could only be called a bitch face.

Damen realized for the first time how similar Jokaste was in appearance to Laurent. He hoped neither of them would notice.

There was almost no talking the whole ride. Jokaste talked about her work and Damen grunted in response. At Auguste’s apartment Laurent got out sullenly and slammed the door.

“She’s a charmer,” said Jokaste.

“Teenagers are moody,” Damen said defensively.

Since Damen’s panicked hangup, Laurent had been mostly ignoring Damen as he’d been mostly ignoring her, but after he dropped her off, his phone started buzzing. He was back at his place with Jokaste.

Laurent: I don’t like her  
Damen: she’s nice  
Laurent: she’s not nice  
Damen: do your homework  
Laurent: you should break up

Damen started ignoring her messages. He liked Jokaste, what did Laurent know.

Even Auguste liked Jokaste. He came out for drinks with them one night. As the waiter brought their first round Damen waited for Auguste to say something about how his new girlfriend looked just like Auguste’s sister. He relaxed as no one said anything, and after several glasses of wine, Auguste was leaning against his shoulder in a friendly manner and it was even Jokaste who brought up, “Damen says sometimes you two--together.”

Auguste nodded. “Should we get out of here?”

Jokaste nodded, and they got an uber back to Damen’s place. Nikandros rolled his eyes at the three of them going into Damen’s room. 

Jokaste eyed Nikandros and said, “Does he want to join us?”

“He’s not into it,” said Damen, and then the door to his bedroom was closed and they didn’t talk much. 

Damen thought a lot about how much Jokaste looked like Auguste’s sister, but Auguste still seemed not to notice. Or maybe Jokaste looked less like Laurent from behind. All Auguste said was, “That was hot,” as he got up from the bed afterward to get some water. 

A couple weeks later, Auguste had to go to Europe for a week, and he asked Damen and Jokaste to stay at his place and watch Laurent.

No one was happy about this. Laurent was insisting that she didn’t need a babysitter. Damen was frantically trying to think of an excuse to get out of it. Jokaste hadn’t had a great first impression of Laurent and wasn’t thrilled about being roped into caring for Damen’s friend’s sister.

But Auguste was desperate and Damen couldn’t think of a good excuse and anyway Damen told himself it would be fine, Jokaste would be there, nothing could happen with Laurent.

The first night, he fucked Jokaste in Auguste’s bed thinking of Laurent behind the thin wall that separated their bedrooms.

The second day, he found out that Jokaste was cheating on him--with his brother.

They broke up. Jokaste left. So the second evening, Damen was drinking at Auguste’s place. Laurent was there, sitting on one of Auguste’s ridiculous designer armchairs, watching Damen.

“I told you that you should break up with her.”

Damen took another drink.

He fell asleep, extremely drunk, in Auguste’s bed. And he woke up to someone climbing in next to him. In his defense, that had happened before when he and Auguste had hooked up with thirds there--before Laurent had moved in.

Still half asleep and buzzed, it was hard to process someone else in bed with him. He realized slowly that it was Laurent, and woke up further.

“Laurent, it’s me,” he said. She must have thought he was Auguste.

Laurent looked at him blearily. “I had a nightmare.”

Jesus fuck, Damen thought. Did Auguste really let his sister sleep with him after a nightmare?

He was too drunk to deal with this, he decided. He closed his eyes again. 

He woke up feeling hungover and with Laurent’s leg thrown over his leg. He was hard and terrified to move for fear she would feel it. He tried to edge away very carefully.

Laurent woke up and looked at him, blinking sleepily. She had bed head and looked gorgeous. She yawned and got up. She was wearing what looked like one of Auguste's old t-shirts and nothing else. The t-shirt slipped up as she got out of bed and he could see a filthy amount of thigh.

Damen tore his eyes away, then looked back.

Laurent disappeared into the bathroom.

That day Damen felt super awkward. He called in sick to work on account of his breakup. He was hungover driving Laurent to school. He still felt like crap seven hours later when he came to pick her up. Auguste called that afternoon and Damen listened to them talking. 

He could guess that Auguste was asking something about him because Laurent said, “No, he’s hungover.”

Auguste said something.

“Jokaste cheated on him with Kastor,” said Laurent.

Auguste said something else.

“Uh huh,” said Laurent.

Damen thought about how hot Laurent looked, standing in front of the window and talking to her brother, and then felt like a horrible person.

That night, he locked the door to Auguste’s bedroom. There wouldn’t be any nightmares, he told himself. He was feeling relieved and like a slightly better person.

Lying in Auguste’s bed, he was almost asleep when he started to hear a buzzing sound from through the wall to Laurent’s room.

Damen told himself that what he was hearing couldn’t possibly be what he was thinking. The noise became fainter, as though muffled by a blanket. Damen’s brain was full of ideas.

He gave in and started touching himself. He was imagining Laurent touching herself and he wasn’t even pretending. He wondered if she had figured out how to do it better. Had she figured out how to get off with her vibrator yet? Was she stifling her noises into her pillow right now? 

He was close to coming when Laurent talked to him through the wall. “Damen?”

Damen stopped moving his hand on his cock and froze, as though if he were quiet enough he could pretend he wasn’t there.

“Are you awake?”

Definitely not, Damen thought. He was not going to reply and she would assume he was asleep.

His phone buzzed. Laurent was texting him. He could still hear the buzzing. Was she texting him while it was still inside of her?

Laurent: are you awake?  
Damen: no

Laurent sent back a series of emoji faces. Damen wasn’t even sure what they all meant.

Damen’s phone rang. He gave up pretending he was asleep. The buzzing sound was louder through the phone than through the wall. 

They both whispered into the phone. 

“It doesn’t work,” said Laurent. “It never works.”

“Just relax,” Damen said. 

“It tickles,” said Laurent. “It’s all buzzy and it just doesn’t work.”

“Sometimes it’s just not the right time,” said Damen. “Go to sleep.”

He wasn’t taking his own advice, and his hand was moving faster on his own cock. He wondered if Laurent could hear him over the phone line.

“But I need it,” Laurent whined. “I’m so close, Damen, and I just can’t--”

Hearing his name on her lips was so hard. “Try using your fingers.”

“They aren’t big enough.”

“Maybe a different toy.”

Laurent made a grumbling noise, but Damen heard the humming noise stop. Laurent padded across the bedroom. There was another noise. 

“Where do you keep them?” Damen asked.

“You know,” Laurent said.

Damen did not know, but a second buzzing sound started so he was distracted. 

“Did you get it wet?” Damen asked.

“Wet?”

“With lube?” said Damen.

“No.”

“Maybe try that,” said Damen. 

“I don’t have any,” said Laurent.

“Auguste has some in the bathroom,” Damen said, without thinking, and then hoped that Laurent wouldn’t ask how he knew that.

She didn’t ask, but he had to listen to Laurent’s footsteps out in the hall and her opening and closing the cabinet door in the bathroom. 

“I got it.”

Damen was so close to coming. 

“Put some lube on the tip,” he said.

Laurent squealed. “It’s cold.”

“Warm it up with your hands,” Damen said.

“I’m all sticky!”

He wanted to touch her so badly. He could make this so good for her. He found himself saying that without really planning to say it. “I could warm it up for you.”

“I bet your hands are really warm,” said Laurent.

They were. Damen had them under the covers touching himself.

“Now what?” said Laurent.

“Feel it on your thigh,” said Damen.

“Now I’m all wet,” said Laurent. He was fairly sure she meant from the lube she’d put on the toy, but he could picture her, wet for other reasons. 

“Move it up,” he said. “Slowly.”

Laurent’s breathing was audible.

“What toy is it?” Damen said. He needed to know how to give better instructions. He spent a few minutes stroking himself and offering suggestions to her over the phone on how to touch herself. Laurent moaned a little bit, seeming more convinced. 

There were whirring noises and a bit of squelching coming from the phone. Laurent moaned again, and Damen finished into his own hand, choking off his own moan.

Laurent was quiet for a moment. “Did you--?”

Damen couldn’t lie to her. “Yes.” His voice was deep.

“Oh,” she said, breathy. “That’s so unfair.” Her voice sounded pained, like when pleasure had tipped over the edge.

Damen couldn’t take it any longer. He dropped his phone on the bed and went over to her door.

It might be locked, he told himself. If it was locked, he wasn’t going to do anything. Go back to Auguste’s room and hang up the phone.

It wasn’t locked.

He opened the door. She was there, wearing Auguste’s t-shirt and no underwear. Her legs were spread and her hands were in between them.

She was still complaining to the phone, but she looked over at him and dropped it with a pleased expression. He walked over to the bed and pulled her hand away from the vibrator and took it himself. 

He was careful not to touch her, at first. He kept his hand just on the vibrator, and used the plastic of it to touch her, as though that were somehow more appropriate. Laurent wasn’t as responsive as some of his lovers. What in some people resulted in arching and moaning and flailing around the bed might get from Laurent a tremble and a controlled whimper. 

After he brought her off the first time, she moved one of her thighs, and he put his hand on it to keep her spread, and her skin was silky and smooth. He brought her off again, and again, for a total of three times, and left her amazed and dazed on the bed. 

He was loving it, and then he escaped, and told himself that it was okay because this was just for her. He hadn’t even taken his pants off in her room. He jerked himself off again in the shower afterward, but he had just helped her to use a toy to please herself. The third time he’d put her fingers back on the toy and had just guided them, even. 

Still, he was never going to let Auguste talk him into babysitting Laurent again. 

In the shower, he told himself that he was not going to think about Laurent. He had wanted to go down on her so badly--but he hadn’t. He could smell her scent in the air of her bedroom, and he could see her moist lips and the delicate nub of her clit, and he could have just leaned in to put his mouth on her--she might have screamed, he thought.

She would have been so desperate after all the stimulation of the vibrator. He might have been able to bring her off a fourth time, slow and delicate. She would have been squirming so much, maybe she would have ridden his face.

But he wasn’t going to let himself think about any of that.

The next day, he drove her to school feeling like a terrible person. He drove her home from school giving himself a pep talk about how it was not going to happen again. 

He overheard her on the phone to Auguste. “I wasn’t feeling good,” she told Auguste. “But Damen helped me feel better.”

Damen considered offing himself because clearly Auguste was going to find out and he was doomed. He watched television that night and Laurent came and sat down next to him. She sat too close, but that seemed to be the least of his problems, so he ignored it. All of the bakers on the show he was watching were going about their custard tarts the wrong way and it was really bothering him. They were all going to be underbaked--

Next to him on the couch, Laurent slid a hand into her own jeans.

Damen forgot about the custard tarts. 

“It feels really swollen,” said Laurent, her tone considering.

“Like, sensitive?” said Damen. His voice had already dropped a register.

She nodded. He could see her fingers moving a little bit through her jeans.

“Be gentle,” he said.

She had an obedient expression and her arm and fingers slowed.

“I feel wet,” she said. “Like I peed myself.”

“That’s okay,” said Damen. “That’s good.”

This was okay, he told himself. He was just helping Laurent with a positive exploration of her sexuality. He wasn’t even touching her.

That lasted until she had gotten herself off once, her hand still down her pants but moving much faster now.

“You should try your g spot,” he said.

“How?” she said.

“Put your finger--inside, and then curl it,” he demonstrated curling his own finger.

She moved her wrist, sliding it further into her pants. She made a face. “I can’t reach--”

He tugged her arm out of her jeans. Her fingers were slick. He slid his own hand down the front of her jeans and cupped around her. She was so wet. His finger found the right spot; she was so tight. He slid his finger inside of her slowly. Laurent whimpered.

He had one finger in her and it felt like that was all she could ever fit. He curled his finger as he’d demonstrated to Laurent. She kind of jumped and leaned more on him. “That’s it,” he said.

“Do it again,” she said.

He pressed on it again. 

Laurent shuddered. “Oh.”

Damen knew that some women were very into the g spot and others were not so much. Laurent was apparently very into it. She seemed even more responsive than when she had been touching her own clit, where she had been contained and trembling and seemed to have trouble tipping over the edge.

Inside, it took him one finger and only a few minutes to bring her off a second time. 

Damen ran out of excuses for himself. He spent the remainder of Auguste’s trip fingering Laurent and getting her off with his fingers or with her toys or escaping to jerk himself off in the shower. 

Auguste came home, and Damen left, half-regretful and half-relieved.


	5. The Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Damen and Auguste go out for drinks and Damen confesses and Auguste does not react the way he is expecting.

A few days later, Auguste took him out as a thank you. He bought Damen a lot of drinks and said how sorry he was about Jokaste being a cheating bitch and how much he appreciated Damen helping with Laurent. 

Auguste had a few drinks himself, some kind of spritz that came with a circular ice cube. 

Damen told Auguste that he was okay about Jokaste and was preparing himself to confess what a horrible person he was regarding Laurent.

Auguste finished his fourth drink in one swallow. “I don’t know what to do with Laurent.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s good she’s friendly with you,” Auguste said. Damen felt like an even worse person. “But I just--” Auguste said. He sighed. 

The bartender came by, and Auguste asked for another drink. 

His fifth spritz came, and Auguste rambled for a bit. Damen listened, pained. Auguste talked about how he thought Laurent was a bit messed up. “Our uncle,” Auguste said, obliquely. “She’s not interested in things she ought to be, at her age. And she doesn’t have any romances. And she just sits in sessions with her counselor and stares and refuses to talk.”

Auguste kept drinking. “She says mean things to me about my sexuality,” he said. “And, whatever, okay, but then she says mean things to anyone I try to date. I can’t bring anyone home anymore. I don’t know if she’s homophobic or biphobic or whatever. She told me I was a slut who didn’t understand people at all.”

Auguste seemed particularly bothered by that. “I’m honest with people,” he told Damen defensively. 

“Of course you are,” Damen agreed. It was Damen who was the horrible person here, clearly.

Auguste had given Laurent a book about healthy teenage sexuality, and she threw it into Auguste’s fireplace. “Which is gas,” said Auguste, “so it was a nightmare to clean up.”

Auguste continued. He had tried to tell Laurent that it was good and healthy to enjoy your body, but she had just glared at him.

He was still drinking. Damen did not feel like he should be hearing this.

“To top it off,” Auguste said, “She’s fucking gorgeous.”

Damen couldn’t help himself and kind of laughed in agreement.

Auguste smiled at him wryly. “You noticed.”

Damen leaned in. He had been drinking also. Not enough for this, but there weren’t enough drinks in the world. “Auguste. I have to tell you something.”

“Yes?”

Damen started at the beginning. He didn’t think Laurent was homophobic or biphobic or whatever. In fact, Laurent had told him she was interested in a girl at her school.

Looking back, Damen was starting to question if that interest--which had never been mentioned again--had been a lie. But Auguste looked interested, and he continued. Laurent was interested in exploring her sexuality, Damen said, and he knew that because she had enlisted Damen’s help in buying a vibrator.

Damen waited for Auguste to punch him.

Auguste had a wry expression. “Well, I’m glad she’s interested and thank you for helping her. I happen to know, though, that she has other toys she ordered shamelessly from my amazon account.”

Damen was shocked. “But she said--”

“She lies a lot,” said Auguste.

That was beginning to be clear to Damen. He was thinking back to things Laurent had said to him with a new light.

“Is that all?” said Auguste.

“No,” Damen said. He was feeling better for having half confessed. So he went all out and braced himself again to be punched. “I slept with her.”

Auguste’s eyebrows went up. “I hope you were safe.”

“Of course,” Damen said. Auguste should know that he was always safe. “I thought you would be more mad,” Damen said.

“I told you I don’t know what to do with her,” Auguste said. “Did she tell you that she was just desperate to get off and needed help?”

Damen was reeling and his shock showed on his face.

“Yeah,” Auguste said. “She did that to me too.”

“And did you?” Damen managed.

“Did you?” Auguste challenged.

Damen nodded.

Auguste hesitated, and then he nodded also. 

Damen’s eyes were wide with disbelief.

Auguste continued. “God, when you were dating Jokaste all I could think about was how she looked just like Laurent.”

“No,” Damen objected. “Laurent is more blonde.”

Auguste ignored this. “When we both fucked Jokaste I was thinking about it the whole time.” He took another drink of his martini. “Maybe you could get back together with her,” he said. Damen assumed he meant Jokaste. “It’s okay if she fucks Kastor, too. You aren’t that into monogamy.”

“No,” Damen said. “That’s too much like incest.”

Auguste raised an eyebrow at him.

They both raised their drinks to their mouths. 

“When Jokaste arched her head and her hair fell down her back,” Auguste said, remembering. 

Damen was thinking back to it now. “I’m so turned on,” he confessed to Auguste.

“Me too,” said Auguste. “We should pick someone up.”

That was the best idea either of them had had all night.

“Maybe brown hair,” Damen said, when they turned to check out the rest of the bar and pick out a woman. 

They had done this before and they usually found it quite easy. They were both good looking and charming and Auguste was willing to pick up the tab for women’s drinks and the two of them were comfortable with each other and women were into that.

Damen caught the eye of a dark-haired woman across the bar, and Auguste signalled the bartender to bring her a drink, and it was only a short time later that Kashel had agreed to go home with them.

Auguste summoned the uber, and Damen didn’t pay much attention to where they were going, Kashel’s thigh warm against his leg. When they were dropped off, Damen saw that they were at Auguste’s place, and he thought “Uh oh,” but Kashel was all over them and they were drunk enough that he didn’t want to go somewhere else, and they got into the elevator. 

Kashel was amazing. They made it into Auguste’s place and into Auguste’s room without seeing Laurent, and in Auguste’s room all three of them took off their clothes. When Auguste suggested double penetration--they always let Auguste suggest it, he did a thing with his eyes that melted women into agreeing--Kashel was on board right away.

Kashel’s enthusiasm didn’t subside when they took their underwear off and she saw how big they each were. Damen sunk inside of her and thought of how tight Laurent was on his finger. 

Auguste had two fingers in Kashel’s ass. “Are you ready?” he said. She nodded. Her hair smelled nice. Floral. Laurent’s shampoo smelled like oranges.

Damen could feel Auguste pressing in slowly. He loved this. Her breasts were warm against him and her hair shadowed his face. They kissed a bit while Auguste worked his way in, until Kashel broke off panting. Then the three of them found a rhythm that worked. It was so good. Kashel was vocal and clearly enjoying it. Damen forgot himself and lost himself in the sheer physical joy of their bodies coming together. 

In the morning, Damen awoke to find himself alone with Auguste in the bed. He pulled on a pair of Auguste’s loose pajama pants and wandered out to the kitchen to make coffee.

Kashel was in the kitchen, and Laurent was in the kitchen also, and the two of them were making out. Kashel had one of her amazing lean legs between Laurent’s. Laurent was making a kittenish noise into Kashel’s mouth. Damen selfishly felt that those were _his_ kittenish noises, and also he’d never even gotten to kiss Laurent. “What the hell?” he said.

Kashel and Laurent broke apart. Laurent wiped her lips on the back of her hand and stared at Damen.

Damen turned his gaze on Kashel, who seemed confused. “She’s fifteen,” he said indignantly.

Kashel raised a hand to her mouth. “Oh my god,” she said. “I didn’t know--I am so sorry!” Kashel’s eyes were huge. “Oh my god.”

“It’s not like--” Laurent started, but Damen cut her off.

“Let me take you home,” he said to Kashel, putting a hand on her shoulder and leading her to the door.

Damen felt slightly bad escaping and leaving hungover Auguste to deal with Laurent alone, but he grabbed his wallet and a t-shirt and left in Auguste’s pants to drive Kashel back to her car. 

Laurent was Auguste’s sister. He had to deal with her. Damen felt slightly betrayed that neither of them had told him what a manipulative liar she was. At least Auguste wasn’t murdering him for sleeping with her, though. 

Damen didn’t go back after he took Kashel home and didn’t see either of them for a few days. Laurent sent him a spiteful text about Kashel tasting good and Damen having good taste in the sluts he picked out and Damen sent a silent thanks Auguste’s way for probably facing the brunt of her anger.


	6. The First Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you can’t guess what happens in this section from the title I’m not sure a description will help you.

He next saw Auguste when they went out for drinks the following week with friends. Nikandros was there, since he got along with some of Auguste’s friends even though he thought Auguste himself was a stuck up prig. 

Auguste slid next to Damen in the booth and promptly started complaining about his work and something that had happened to Laurent at school, and Damen was really the only one listening, so they ended up talking. Jord poked fun at Auguste for Damen being his favorite and the two of them always being full of girlish gossip and secrets, and Auguste told him to fuck off.

Later in the evening, Nikandros and Jord were playing pool, and the two of them were alone. 

Auguste picked at the label on his beer bottle. “How far have you gone?”

He didn’t say anything about who he was talking about it, but he didn’t need to. Damen looked over at him and gulped the rest of his drink. He felt like he owed Auguste the truth. “Fingers, toys.”

Damen hadn’t wanted to go further, because Laurent was young and--he had thought, at least--extremely virginal. He was now questioning that. 

Auguste nodded. 

Damen was curious. “You?”

Auguste didn’t exactly answer. “I want to fuck her,” he said. “I’m a horrible person.”

Damen sucked in a breath. “I want to go down on her.”

Auguste snorted. “Great. You can go first.”

It was clearly a joke when he said it, but after he spoke their eyes met and held and after a moment it suddenly wasn’t a joke anymore. Auguste took out his wallet to count out a bunch of cash for the table, and Damen grabbed his coat. 

They left without speaking. Damen could hear Jord saying, “Did they pick someone up, again?” as they walked out.

Auguste drove them back to his place. He parked in the garage under the building rather than wherever he could find on the street, like Damen did. They rode the elevator up from the garage.

They went in. Laurent was sitting at the kitchen table. Her legs were pulled up and she had some textbook open in front of her. She looked over at them as they came in.

Auguste locked the door behind them. Damen couldn’t take his eyes off of Laurent. “I want to go down on you,” he said, walking over to the kitchen. 

Laurent’s eyes were locked on his. “Yes,” she said quickly, as though he might change his mind. She licked her lips, and Damen found himself echoing the gesture, wetting his own lips. 

He took three more steps and was standing in front of her. She looked up at him. She glanced away from him over his shoulder, looking at Auguste, Damen assumed. Her expression was determined and entitled, like she was readying herself for a fight, but whatever she saw in Auguste’s expression seemed to give his blessing and she looked back at Damen.

“You should,” she said. “What are you waiting for?”

She spread her legs slowly, as though she were exposing herself to him blatantly, except for how she was still dressed. She had had her knees up and her feet tucked next to her ass on the kitchen chair, and she turned her feet and knees out like a dancer. Damen fell to his knees in front of her.

Auguste rolled his eyes. “We have furniture.” He picked Laurent up from the kitchen chair in a bridal carry and took her over to the couch. 

Damen followed. When Auguste was sitting on the couch with Laurent still in his arms, Damen started stripping off her pants. They were some kind of tight leggings and he had to peel them off. Auguste helped by tugging her underwear off as well. He let it drop to the floor. 

When her pants were off, Auguste put one hand on each of her thighs and spread them, opening her legs up. He arranged Laurent so that she was sitting with her legs on the outside of his own, held with her back to his chest.

Damen knelt in front of them. The rug was nicer than the kitchen floor.

Laurent had a smug expression of satisfaction on her face, and it was intolerable, Damen leaned in and nipped at her knee. Auguste adjusted his hands to hold her in place.

Damen just looked at her, first, spread in front of him. He had seen her before, in her bedroom with the toys, but it felt different now, with her brother’s hand on her thigh. Her skin was smooth and hairless, pale along her legs and stomach and pink at the center. He touched her with a finger, spreading her lips and seeing her arousal glistening. 

“I thought you were--” Laurent began.

“Shh,” Auguste interrupted. “Be patient.”

Damen ignored both of them. He used his fingertip to spread the moisture upward, touching her clit, then running his finger down to gather a little more of it and do it again. 

He thought that he could happily simply look at and touch Laurent forever. Auguste would run out of patience for foreplay after a short period of time, though, Damen knew. After a few minutes he leaned in to taste her, licking delicately.

“Laurent,” Damen said. “Laurent you taste so good.” He leaned in again. He could feel Laurent’s thighs trembling under his hand. 

“Auguste, he’s doing it,” Laurent said, whispering.

Auguste talked to her encouragingly. “Yes, isn’t it good?”

“Yes,” Laurent was still whispering.

Damen used his fingers to part her lips gently, and then leaned in again, first just kissing her there, with his lips puckered up, and then more seriously licking her. He was exploring at first, enjoying her taste and learning her, and then he focused a bit more with his tongue on her clit, moving up and down, interspersing his work with his tongue with the occasional brush of his finger.

“Do you like that?” he asked Laurent, looking up for some feedback.

Laurent made an exaggerated judging face. “Maybe if you applied yourself a bit more--”

“You are such a liar,” Auguste told her, clapping a hand over her mouth. “Keep going, Damen.”

Damen liked to tease a little, at first, paying attention to the skin above her clit, and on either side of it, trailing his mouth down to dip deeper at how she tasted. As he could feel her growing arousal he was more serious about his work, focusing on what he was doing with his tongue consistently over and over, and rubbing his hand along her thigh as another point of connection. His hand brushed Auguste’s as he stroked her.

She was shaking a little after the first time Damen got her off, but Damen wasn’t ready to stop. “I can do it again,” he said.

“Yes,” said Laurent, flopped against Auguste and no longer whispering. “Do it again.”

Auguste groaned. “What about my turn?”

Damen hadn’t been sure, when they left the bar, how serious Auguste had been. Was he really going to fuck her?

Damen’s hands were right there, so he slide a finger inside of her slowly. She was soaking wet but so tight around his finger. He looked up at Auguste, who was watching this with interest. 

“What’s your turn?” said Laurent. “Are you going to go down on me? Are you better than Damen--”

Damen made an offended noise. Auguste slid his own hand down next to Damen’s. Damen withdrew his finger and Auguste put his in. Laurent tried to crane her head to see and Auguste used his other arm to secure her against his chest. Damen watched. Slickness dripped from Laurent. Auguste slid a second finger in without warning. Laurent squeaked.

“I’m going to fuck you,” said Auguste.

“Yes,” Laurent agreed instantly. “Good idea. Your turn.”

Damen wasn’t sure how two fingers were even in her, much less how she would fit Auguste’s cock.

“Let me get her off again,” said Damen, and he leaned in to lick her around Auguste’s fingers.

Auguste hissed, and then he moved his hand to give Damen more space. Damen used one of his own fingers, this time, gently moving it inside of Laurent in an effort to loosen her as he sucked, until she was shuddering again in Auguste’s lap.

Auguste moved his hand again and slid a finger inside next to Damen’s, and did a little scissoring motion between their fingers. Somehow their fingers touching inside of her was unbelievably dirty. 

Auguste shifted her off of his lap and set Laurent on the couch next to him so he could take his clothes off. Laurent watched, interested, for a moment, and then shucked her own shirt. Auguste’s clothes ended up spread on the floor mixed up with Laurent’s pants and underwear. Auguste looked at Laurent on the couch. “Are you taking them?”

Laurent nodded.

“You haven’t skipped--”

“I’m not stupid,” said Laurent.

Damen realized they were talking about birth control pills. He was out of his mind that somehow Auguste had arranged for his sister to get them.

Auguste seemed satisfied with her answers. He pointed at the couch. “Damen, hold her.”

Damen lay back on the couch. Laurent sat on top of him, and Damen helped her lean back against his chest. Her ass was rubbing at his erection and it was a delicious torture.

Auguste knelt over her and spread her legs wider. He hooked one of them over the back of the couch and pushed the other off the side of the couch over Damen’s leg. She was almost doing splits.

Auguste positioned himself and pushed inside of her.

“Oh!” 

“Shh, sweetheart,” Damen said. He reached for one of her nipples as a distraction.

Auguste’s expression was almost as surprised as Laurent’s. “So you haven’t been off fucking half the town,” he said, sounding oddly fond.

Laurent blinked indignantly. 

Damen made a comforting noise and he wasn’t even sure who he was comforting.

“You’re so good, Laurent,” Auguste said sweetly, as though placing the head of his cock in her had given him a new store of patience. 

Damen was slightly surprised to see Auguste fall into the same kind of reassuring dirty talk that he did when they picked up thirds and Auguste convinced women to try anal with them, and then he asked himself why he was surprised, he knew how Auguste was.

Damen held Laurent, kissed her neck, and occasionally murmured agreement with Auguste’s comments about how amazing she was going to feel once she took all of Auguste’s cock.

He couldn’t resist, so he snaked a hand down to feel where Auguste was in her, which made both of them hiss. Auguste was not that far in. He had got the head inside, and Laurent was stretched so tight around him. Laurent tensed up a bit at his touch. 

“Touch me, Damen,” said Laurent, and Damen started touching Laurent’s clit obediently. She made a pleased noise.

“I should send him off for one of your toys,” said Auguste. “You would like that.”

“I’m on top of him,” Laurent objected.

“Next time,” Auguste said absently, and Damen had a moment to contemplate that there might be repeat experiences in the future. Auguste was still talking. “God, she’s so tight.”

“Amazing,” Damen murmured, not really thinking. He was much worse than Auguste at talking in bed. “She keeps squirming against me,” he said.

“Are you thinking about going next?” said Auguste, and Damen hadn’t even been thinking of that, but now he was.

“Is Damen better than you?” said Laurent, saucy.

“You’re insufferable,” Auguste said.

“Was it like this with Kashel?” said Laurent suddenly.

“Who?” said Auguste.

“The woman last week,” said Damen.

“Oh,” said Auguste. “No,” he told Laurent.

“This is so much better,” Damen assured Laurent.

“Why?” said Laurent.

Damen was kind of at a loss to give reasons. He wasn’t drunk, he supposed, which was nice, and he actually liked Laurent a lot and he hadn’t even known Kashel--

“What was it like?” said Laurent. 

“With Kashel?” said Auguste. He looked Damen’s direction for help. “Which time?” Auguste’s memories of the previous weekend seemed hazy. Damen could see that Auguste was about to start making things up.

“We made out,” Damen offered. He had been thinking of making out with Laurent since he’d seen her and Kashel together, and he still had never kissed her on the mouth.

“You’re not telling me everything,” Laurent complained, but Damen ignored that and scooted her up on his chest a bit. He used a hand to tilt her head to the side so that he could lean in and kiss her.

Auguste applied his mouth to her front. He trailed his lips down her neck, and then over one of her nipples, licking and then teasing lightly with his teeth.

Damen found himself wholly occupied with her mouth. She kept her lips together, at first, and her eyes open, like she had never been kissed before--even though he knew that wasn’t true--and once pressing gently against her lips was more of a tease than he could stand, he whispered, “Open your mouth, sweetheart,” and dipped his tongue inside for the first time.

“I like making out,” Laurent said.

“Me too,” Damen agreed. 

Augusted echoed Damen’s pace in the making out with his treatment of Laurent’s nipples. He often did that. It was understood between them that Damen had good pacing, and so the two of them were accustomed to following Damen’s tempos just as Damen let Auguste do the talking. Except for when Damen drew on the foreplay for what Auguste decided was too long.

Damen kissed Laurent until her eyes fluttered shut. That was the sign Auguste had been watching for, apparently, because when it happened, Auguste mouthed “on three” to Damen.

Damen blinked in acknowledgement. He leaned in to kiss Laurent again. 

“One,” Auguste mouthed.

“Two.”

Damen had been absently stroking Laurent’s clit, but not very serious about it since she was so tense. When Auguste got to two, he increased his pressure. He could feel her react because she was lying right on top of him.

“Three.”

Laurent’s eyes blinked open and she breathed away from Damen’s mouth. Auguste had moved his hands from Laurent’s chest to her waist, and used them to brace himself as he pushed in all the way. Damen could feel her react on top of him again, sensing all of the tension within her.

Auguste groaned and dropped his head to her shoulder. “Honey,” he said. “It’s so good.”

Laurent’s expression had gone scrunched up when Auguste had pushed in all the way and now she was slowly relaxing a bit. 

“So tight,” Auguste said, mindlessly. “It feels amazing on my cock.” Damen often wondered how Auguste got away with half of the things he said to women.

Laurent was now looking somewhat victorious. 

“Damen, can you believe that?” said Auguste. “She’s all smug. Insufferable,” he said again.

“I want Damen to fuck me next,” Laurent announced.

“This is like—" Auguste began thrusting gently inside of her. The gentle rocking motion rubbed her ass against Damen’s cock in a delicious tease. “—when you were little, and you decided that when we played games there should be a rule that you have 3 turns and then I have one turn—”

Laurent arched a little. “That was a good rule.”

“—stacked against me—”

And somehow they were still having a nonsense argument when Laurent made a hiccuping noise again and came, twitching against Damen’s fingertips on her clit.

This was almost certainly the hottest experience of Damen’s life, and he still had all of his clothes on. Auguste and Laurent were both naked and gorgeous, all creamy skin and lithe muscles and golden hair. Laurent had her hands resting on Auguste’s shoulders. At first they were hesitant, just resting there, and then as Auguste came close to the finish, Laurent’s grip tightened, and Damen imagined that she was leaving scratches on Auguste’s back. 

Auguste finished inside of her, groaning against her shoulder. 

“I can feel it,” said Laurent, marveling.

“It’s still my turn,” said Auguste, but Damen wasn’t even sure he knew what he was saying at this point. 

Auguste pulled out and climbed off of the two of them on the couch after a moment. Standing next to the couch, Damen could see a smear of pink on Auguste’s cock, which seemed insanely filthy hot. He wanted to get his mouth on Laurent again.

Auguste stepped away to wash, and Damen rolled Laurent onto her back on the couch and moved down to look at her. She was creamy with Auguste’s seed inside of her, and he admired it for a moment before he leaned in to taste.

He eased a finger inside of her. Her thigh was trembling under his other hand. 

She squirmed a little on his finger. He used his mouth again and thought that he could get her to ride his hand. 

Auguste was back. “You haven’t even seen his cock yet,” said Auguste. “Damen, take your clothes off.”

Before Damen had a chance to obey, Laurent was looking over at his crotch. Auguste took her hand and cupped her hand around Damen through his pants, rubbing a bit.

Laurent licked her lips, fascinated. “He’s bigger than you,” she said to Auguste.

Damen groaned. “Auguste,” he said, “I can’t--” He was too turned on. It was too much.

“Look what you did to him,” said Auguste to Laurent, scolding like when she spilled in the kitchen. “Take his pants off.” 

Laurent was clumsy with the button on his jeans, but she managed it, and then awkwardly pulled them off his legs, kneeling on the floor next to the couch.

Damen pulled his own shirt off. 

He still had his underwear on, and Laurent was staring at it.

Damen and Auguste had something of a strategy, where they had learned that making out with each other got women turned on. So it was second nature for Auguste to lean over next to Damen on the couch and kiss him. 

Laurent stared.

Damen broke away from Auguste and looked at her on the floor next to the couch. She looked sinful. Her hair was loose and tangled. There was a trickle of semen on her thigh. Her breasts were pink from their attention while fucking her.

Auguste took Damen’s underwear off. 

Laurent stared at his cock. “It’s my turn,” Laurent said.

“It’s always your turn,” Auguste grumbled, but he was helping anyway, “Damen, lie back.”

Damen shifted around on the couch. They ended up where both Auguste and Laurent were straddling Damen, Laurent in front. She was too far forward, though, and Auguste tugged at her waist to move her further back.

She fell a little as he moved her, and her hands were on Damen’s chest. 

“Pinch his nipple,” said Auguste. “He likes that.”

Laurent looked at Damen, and then she did. Damen smiled encouragingly and arched a little when she pinched him. 

She knelt up again. Auguste had a hand on Damen’s cock and positioned him and Laurent with his other hand on Laurent’s waist. When he had it lined up, he said, “Go ahead,” to Laurent.

Laurent’s thighs were trembling. She lowered herself a fraction, slowly. Damen groaned at how warm and wet and tight it felt on the tip of his cock. She was so tight. She stopped for a moment. Her legs were straining to hold the position.

She was tiny, Damen thought. Her hand was too small to wrap all the way around Damen’s cock. Even stretched from Auguste fucking her, this had to be a lot.

“Keep going,” Auguste said.

Laurent lowered herself a bit more. 

Auguste kept talking. “Roll again. Do not pass go. Skip a turn—”

“Shut up, Auguste,” Laurent said, lowering herself again, further. 

“It was Colonel Mustard in the billiard room with the candlestick—”

“Damen is better than you are,” Laurent sounded peevish. She arched back against Auguste behind her. Her legs gave out. She ended up sitting on Damen’s pelvis. 

“Damen hasn’t even done anything,” Auguste objected.

“Kiss me,” Laurent said, and Damen wasn’t sure if she was telling him or Auguste, but he wanted to kiss her. Damen curled up into a sitting position to meet her lips. He relaxed back against the couch after a few minutes, running his hands along Laurent’s arms and thighs in a mindless caress.

Auguste reached down to put his hand on her stomach. “How deep into you is it?” He measured with his hand from her pubic bone up her body. “This deep?”

“Bigger,” Laurent said.

Auguste moved his hand up a little. “This deep?”

Laurent nodded.

Auguste pressed on her stomach a little. “I’m trying to feel it, stuffing you,” he said, and Laurent moaned.

Damen was so desperate; he was ready to beg. “Please, can you--”

Laurent didn’t understand, but Auguste did. “He wants you to move.”

“Move how?” said Laurent.

Auguste put his hands on her hips. “Maybe like this,” he guided her in a circling motion. “Or this,” he helped her raise up and down again.

Auguste helped her ride Damen until her legs were weak and trembling.

“It’s not enough,” said Damen, “Can I--”

“Damen’s turn,” Auguste said, and Damen flipped Laurent over to be under him on the couch. It was much easier to kiss her in this position, and Damen did, and then pushed back into her.

She made a noise deep in her throat. This was different from the wobbly riding she’d been doing. Damen used a steady series of controlled thrusts, seeking his own orgasm. Laurent gave breathy exhalations as he pushed into her, over and over again. She said his name, “Damen,” and then, with more abandon in her voice, she said it again.

Auguste was stroking Damen’s back and his ass, and he was talking, of course. “Damen, that’s so good, give it to her.”

Damen was distracted because he was finishing. He slowed his thrusts through the final pulses, spilling inside of her. He collapsed on top of her.

She squirmed. “I’m squished.” Damen rolled them to the side carefully, so he wasn’t on top of her.

“I forget how good it is without a condom,” said Damen. “I don't ever want to pull out.”

“We have to take turns,” said Auguste.

Damen groaned. Laurent moved next to him a little bit, as though she were trying to rub against him helplessly.

Neither of them bothered to put any clothes on. Auguste tossed Damen a washcloth and wiped Laurent down gently between her legs while she squirmed, and then they all just went into Auguste’s bedroom without talking about it and piled into his bed.

Laurent curled up on Damen’s chest defiantly, and Damen cradled her in his arms. Auguste was not into cuddling, Damen knew. He tolerated it occasionally but it made him antsy. The most Damen had seen him put up with it was with Laurent, but Auguste still seemed content to stretch out next to the two of them without touching.

He turned his head to look at them. “Are you happy now?” Auguste asked Laurent. “Now that you’ve gotten what you wanted?”

“Exactly what I wanted,” Laurent said, her tone smug.

“You are so spoiled, honey,” said Auguste, but his tone was fond and he was smiling.

“Auguste,” she said, as though she were telling a secret, but they were all close enough to hear her. “I want more.”

And Damen fell asleep to the two of them laughing lightly.

In the morning, Auguste was sleeping when Damen woke up. Laurent was next to him. He stared at her for a long moment. He felt half in love with her already. She was so beautiful. 

Her eyes blinked open. 

“Hi,” he said.

She smiled at him, a slow and sweet and shy smile, and something happened in Damen’s chest, and he was all the way in love with her, he knew. 

“Are you sore?” he said.

She nodded.

Damen ducked under the blankets to inspect the situation and see if he could make her feel any better.

He could, in fact, and as he felt her fluttering her orgasm around two fingers he had on her g-spot, he heard Auguste.

“You slut,” Auguste marveled. “Yesterday you’re a virgin, and today I wake up to see you getting off in my bed before I’m even awake.”


	7. The Honeymoon Period

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Auguste is knifed by Laurent's past and fucks Damen in a fit of pique.

There was an amazing honeymoon period. Damen spent almost all of his time that he was not at work over at Auguste’s place. Damen got Laurent off with his mouth or his fingers, and then they took turns fucking her, and it was only becoming more amazing. 

The only bad thing was that he ran out of excuses for why they were hanging out all the time. 

He left with an overnight bag after having been at home long enough to take a shower and do his laundry. Nikandros raised an eyebrow at him on his way out. “Have you and Auguste stopped using women as excuses and admitted you’re crazy about each other?”

“It’s not like that,” Damen sputtered. “Auguste isn’t gay.”

“No one straight cares that much about anal sex,” said Nikandros.

Auguste had given an impassioned lecture on the subject while drunk at one of their parties.

“It’s not like that,” said Damen again, weakly.

“Why are you always over there, then?” said Nikandros. 

“No reason,” said Damen, starting to blush. “I have to go.”

“You’re a horrible liar,” Nikandros shouted after him. 

Damen would have been content for this to go on forever, but Auguste and Laurent were not so patient.

Auguste was always full of ideas, which he framed as expanding Laurent’s education. He had a calendar of sex positions and insisted on them trying all of them. They had to catch up on the first months of the year, which were already past, and then October’s position looked particularly like a pretzel, so they had to try that early. There was one strange seeming position where Laurent’s legs were together and crossed, but it turned out to feel amazing, and Damen was amazed that Laurent was flexible enough to be bent on the bed in half, with her legs up by her face. 

Auguste would sometimes adopt an instructional tone with his sister, and then sometimes he started directing Damen in the same way. Damen occasionally played along and usually ignored him, but Laurent was just as good at the game as her brother, and would look at Damen with her eyes fake wide and say, “Is that good? Am I doing it right?” and all Damen could do would be groan.

It wasn’t unusual for Laurent to play coy when Auguste unveiled a new idea, hesitating or asking wide-eyed lascivious questions. 

Damen expected a similar game when Auguste said, one Friday night that they were staying in, that he had a new idea for Laurent. Auguste was moving from the table to the couch while Damen cleared dishes into the kitchen. Both Auguste and Laurent were useless at dishes. They didn’t cook. Laurent would just leave dishes to stack up until someone else did them. Auguste let doing the dishes turn into a giant project of scrubbing and sanitizing the kitchen, so it was really better if Damen did it. 

Laurent smiled at him. “What’s that?” she said, asking about Auguste’s idea. 

“It’s probably time,” said Auguste, pulling his hair back into a messy bun, “for you to learn to give a decent blowjob.”

Laurent’s expression went flat. “No,” she said, and there wasn’t an ounce of hesitation or playing in her tone. It was completely different from the games she played when she said no, or that she wasn’t sure if she liked it yet, maybe just a bit gentler. It was clear and firm and definite.

Damen and Auguste both froze. Damen set the plate he was holding down on the counter.

“Okay,” Auguste said, slowly. His voice was different as well, none of the usual teasing or cajoling or dirty talk he used with Laurent or with other women. He spoke quietly, but seriously.

Laurent took a breath and blew it out slowly. “No,” she said again, enunciating clearly. “I am never going to do that.”

Auguste looked over at Damen. Auguste looked vaguely panicked. His eyes said, “What do I say?”

Damen opened his mouth to ask Laurent if she wanted to talk about it, but Laurent beat him to speaking. “Come over to the couch, Damen,” she said, and Damen left the dirty dishes on the counter and came over to sit at her direction.

Once he was sitting, Laurent climbed onto his lap, and then leaned in to make out with him, evidently done with their conversation. Damen rested his hands gently on her waist and let her guide the pace. 

Auguste sat delicately next to them, and was notably subdued all evening. 

When Laurent was asleep, Auguste tugged Damen off to the bathroom. 

The bathroom at Auguste’s apartment was obscene. In the place he shared with Nikandros, the shower was small enough that it was hard for Damen to fit, and he hadn’t been able to have shower sex in there, even when he had a small and determined partner. The whole bathroom was barely large enough to turn around.

Auguste’s bathroom was practically the size of Damen’s kitchen. There were mirrors stretching from the floor to the ceiling, a separate shower stall and a large tub, two sinks, and a bench. Who needed a bench in their bathroom? Auguste shut the door behind them.

“Damen,” he said, genuinely distressed. 

Damen wasn’t usually good at talking about things. He opened his arms to see if Auguste wanted a hug, and it was probably a sign of how distressed Auguste was that he uncharacteristically accepted. 

“I need to kill my uncle,” Auguste said. “But I don’t want to go to jail.”

“Don’t go to jail,” said Damen. 

“I didn’t know what he did to her,” Auguste said. “I knew there was--something, but--”

“I mean,” said Damen awkwardly, “It seems like he--”

“I got that much,” Auguste glared. He drummed his fingers on the sink nervously. “What if he did other stuff? What if there are other things that she--doesn’t want?”

“We could ask her,” Damen said.

“Don’t be stupid, Damen,” Auguste said. “We can’t ask her!”

Damen felt that it was more reasonable to ask her than Auguste was making it sound.

“Calm down,” Damen said, which had the opposite effect.

Auguste stepped closer to him, furious. “Don’t act like you weren’t part of this,” Auguste said. “You fucked her too--this is practically your idea.”

“What?” said Damen, disbelieving. For a second he thought that Auguste might punch him. “Take it down a notch,” he said. 

They stared at each other for a long moment.

Then, the bathroom door opened. Laurent yawned in the doorway. She was naked. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Auguste and Damen said in unison.

Laurent looked deeply skeptical. “I’m cold,” she said. “Come back to bed.” She reached out for Damen’s hand and tugged him back toward the bedroom. He followed.

Auguste rested his hands on the countertop. “Go ahead,” he said. “I just--I need a minute.”

Damen climbed into bed and Laurent curled up on top of him. Damen heard the shower start in the bathroom.

Auguste remained nervous. The next day, Damen gave Laurent a ride home after his shift at work, and Laurent messaged Auguste and frowned her whole ride home, and then said petulantly, “He’s working late, let’s fuck without him.” Which they did. 

Over the weekend Auguste joined them in bed again, though he remained much quieter than usual. Sunday evening, Laurent rested her head on his torso and said, “Auguste.”

“Laurent.”

“Stop being weird,” she said.

“I’m not being weird,” he returned.

She seemed to take his retort as a sign of recovery and rested her head on his chest, which Auguste manfully tolerated until she was sleeping and then he realized she was drooling on him and he got completely grossed out.

They had come close to their previous level of comfort--with no mentions of Laurent performing oral--and Auguste was even starting to search for strange sex positions for them to try on the internet again. That was when the fight happened.

Damen wasn’t actually totally sure how the fight started. It seemed to be related to something about Laurent’s school, but he wasn’t there for the beginning of it.

Auguste and Laurent fought a fair amount, Damen had already observed. They both had tempers and shouted when they were mad. So it wasn’t unusual for Auguste to burst out of nowhere with something like, “Laurent! You left your shoes in the middle of the hall, again! Do you want me to trip and die?”

And Laurent would usually roll her eyes and shout back something like, “You’re so OCD, oh my god!” and depending on the dynamics of the day either Laurent would sigh and go move the shoes or Auguste would throw up his arms in the air and go move the shoes himself. Five minutes later neither of them would remember it happened. Damen found them hilarious.

By the time Damen arrived at Auguste’s, expecting an evening in with the three of them, the fight had apparently already been going on for some time. 

Auguste had given him a key, so he let himself in, and each of them barely glanced his direction.

“You’re grounded,” Auguste said. His tone was calmer than he usually was when he was mad, which actually made him sound more threatening.

Laurent did not seem the slightest bit threatened. She rolled her eyes. “Like I ever even go anywhere.” Her tone was snarky. “You’re just going to fuck me anyway, it doesn’t matter if I’m grounded.”

“Not tonight,” Auguste said. “Damen and I are going out.” 

Damen was still wearing his shoes and holding his key in his hand. Auguste grabbed his wallet and pushed Damen out the door. 

In the hallway, Damen felt sort of uncertain about this. “What happened?”

Auguste rubbed his temples. “I need a drink.”

They walked to a bar they sometimes went to down the street, and sat at the bar, and Auguste soon had three empty glasses in front of him while Damen was still nursing his first drink. 

“Tell me what happened,” Damen tried again, and while Auguste started talking willingly enough, the story wasn’t clear. Damen gathered the following: Laurent was generally a good student, but--something had happened? She didn’t consider whatever had happened wrong and wasn’t the slightest bit repentant. Auguste was really mad and especially mad that she didn’t listen to him.

“She does listen to you a lot,” Damen said. “She thinks the world of you.”

Auguste just snorted. “She’s just using me for sex,” he said.

“She loves you,” Damen said, confident enough in Laurent’s feelings about her brother, but Auguste’s comment did play to a fear of Damen’s about Laurent’s possible feelings about Damen himself. 

“I don’t want to think about her,” said Auguste, ordering a fourth drink. “Let’s pick someone up.”

Damen frowned. That felt--wrong. He felt loyal to Laurent. He loved Laurent, somehow, even if she was just using him because he was convenient. And in any case, he and Auguste had been fucking her without protection, so it seemed like they should be careful and not fuck around.

“How about another drink,” Damen said to Auguste instead.

At closing, Auguste leaned a bit on Damen as they walked back to Auguste’s place. 

Laurent would typically have been in bed by that hour, but she was still awake and sitting at the kitchen table with a textbook wearing her pajamas. Her pajamas were such tiny pieces of silk it wasn’t clear to Damen why she even bothered.

When they came in, she looked over with a smug expression. “I knew you’d be back.”

Damen himself was completely willing to say, “You’re so right, sweetheart,” and pick her up and maybe fuck her against the wall. He wasn’t even going to bother to take off her tiny pajama shorts, he was just going to push them to the side to slide his cock in. She’d lose the smug expression quickly enough. 

Auguste apparently felt differently, because he said, sounding more sober than he had on the walk back from the bar, “We’re busy,” and he dragged Damen into his room and locked the door with Laurent on the outside.

The door handle jiggled. Damen could tell by Laurent’s voice that she was standing right outside the door. “Seriously?” she said.

“Go away,” Auguste told her, taking off his shoes.

“What are you going to do, fuck each other?” said Laurent.

“Yes,” said Auguste.

Damen raised an eyebrow at him. They’d never done that before. They made out in front of women easily enough, and Auguste didn’t hesitate to touch Damen when they were in a threesome, either a friendly pat to get Damen to move the way he wanted or using his hand to position Damen’s cock to enter their third. But they didn’t do more than that, and Damen sort of figured it was related to Auguste's insistence that he wasn’t gay.

“Fine,” said Laurent petulantly, through the door. “I’ll get myself off.”

“Fine,” Auguste said.

Laurent’s voice changed. Instead of shouting at them through Auguste’s door, she was shouting at them through the wall between their bedrooms. “I’m touching myself,” she announced. Damen hoped that the soundproofing between units in Auguste’s building was much better than the soundproofing within the units.

“I’m fucking Damen,” Auguste said, shouting back at her through the wall. “Damen, roll over,” he said.

Damen still had his clothes on and wasn’t in any rush. “This is your idea,” he said. “Maybe I should fuck you.”

“You can be second,” Auguste said. “Come on.”

Auguste watched impatiently while Damen removed the rest of his clothes. 

By the time Damen was naked, Auguste was muttering impatiently, “Come on, come on!” so Damen rolled onto his front.

“It’s been a while,” said Damen. “I need a lot of prep.” Damen sometimes felt, watching Auguste with others, that Auguste's foreplay was...cursory. Damen tended to take over the foreplay himself. Now that his ass was on the line he was a bit more concerned. 

Auguste fingered him a little. Laurent was apparently fingering herself on the other side of the wall, if she was telling the truth with what she was shouting at them. 

Damen started to relax into the sensation of Auguste’s fingers. He didn’t receive often, but he loved anal play. Jokaste had done the most amazing thing with two of her slim fingers. He was starting to look forward to Auguste fucking him. Auguste had convinced enough women into anal that he had to be decent at it, Damen figured.

Auguste moved his hand away as Damen was starting to get into it.

“No, I need more,” Damen said.

“Damen is being a pussy!” Auguste announced to Laurent’s wall.

A buzzing sound started on the other side of the wall. “This toy is my favorite,” Laurent said.

Auguste’s fingers resumed their gentle massage inside of Damen. 

“You’re really good at that,” Damen murmured.

Auguste snorted. “You don’t have to sound so surprised.”

There was another shout from Laurent’s wall. “I’m putting this toy in my ass!”

Damen craned his head over his shoulder to look at Auguste. Auguste stared back at him. They both stood up without discussion and walked over to her room.

Her door wasn’t locked. She looked smug as they came into her bedroom, bumping a little bit in the doorway. She was spread out on her bed, her legs bent and raised up, and one of her hands was holding a slim buzzing vibrator, poised for entry. She pushed it in a couple of inches, and the two of them watched open-mouthed. 

She arched performatively on the bed, her mouth falling open also. “Oh!” she said. “Why does anyone like that?” She pulled the toy out. Her hole winked open for a moment before puckering closed once again.

“Laurent,” Damen said, scolding. “What have I told you about lube, and easing into it?”

“He’s very tedious about foreplay,” Auguste agreed. 

Damen moved over to the bed and took the toy from Laurent. Her room was smaller than Auguste’s, and her bed was just a twin, and there was far less space for maneuvering. “Roll over,” he said, and then, when she was on her stomach, her pulled over over to the edge of the bed so that her top half rested on the bed and her legs went over the side and her toes were on the floor. If he knelt behind her, he had a good angle. 

“I’m going to wash my hands,” Auguste said. Auguste left, and Damen decided what he wanted to do first. Laurent’s ass was beautiful. Her skin was pale and smooth and unblemished, and it had a firm rounded shape under his hands.

“I’m going to start with my mouth,” Damen told her, because rimming was usually more pleasant before people were slathered with lube. 

Laurent craned her head over her shoulder, obviously confused about what that meant, and Damen leaned in. She squeaked at the first touch of Damen’s lips, and said, “Damen!” with great intensity when he first touched her with his tongue.

Auguste returned from the bathroom. “Are you done yet?” he asked Damen.

“I only just started,” Damen objected.

“He’s using his mouth,” Laurent hissed, sounding scandalized, but she was trembling under Damen’s hands and holding her breath waiting for him to lean in again.

Damen took his time and refused to rush. Laurent’s ass was beautiful, and he took some time mapping over it with his hands and his mouth, appreciating the smooth skin. Auguste sat down on Laurent’s bed next to her and reclined until his head was close to hers, and he leaned in to kiss her, briefly. Not a chaste kiss, but a lingering slow kiss, that somehow apologized for their earlier argument and more, all in a single gesture. Damen was almost distracted from what he was doing, until Laurent broke away from the kiss to say, “Keep going, Damen.”

He trailed his lips over the globe of Laurent’s ass and back toward her center, and then spent some time teasing his tongue and lips around the rim, until she was sloppy with spit. 

“I’m going to use a finger,” he said. 

“Oh my god,” said Laurent.

Auguste looked at her sympathetically. “He doesn’t like to be rushed.”

Damen eased the tip of his forefinger inside Laurent. “Do you like that?” he said. “Is it better than with the toy?”

“Keep going,” Laurent said.

Damen pushed his finger a bit deeper. She was tight, and inside she was warm and soft around his finger. 

Auguste was cradling her head in his hand. 

Damen managed a single finger inside of her, and he explored her gently, staring at her ass and the minute contractions of her muscles. 

Auguste reached down, brushed her clit, and then slid a finger into her. Damen could feel Auguste’s finger in Laurent’s other hole, the motion palpable through her body. “Do you want to take both of us like this, honey?” Auguste said. “One of us in front and one of us in back?”

“Yes,” Laurent said, choked, and then Damen pushed Auguste’s hand away and rolled Laurent over. He pushed her legs up.

“Hold them,” he said, and when Laurent had raised them up he leaned in to apply his mouth to her clit while he kept one of his fingers in her ass. 

She shuddered through her first orgasm, but Damen didn’t like to stop after just one, and he kept teasing her through a second before he pulled away. 

When they fucked her Auguste often liked to go first, so Damen looked over at him instinctively. Auguste tossed a washcloth at him. “Your face is a mess,” he said, and Damen wiped his mouth.

“Let’s do,” said Laurent, still breathless, “what you said. About--both of you.”

Auguste looked like he might be considering it, but Damen drew a line.

“No way,” he said. “She’s never even done anal. She has to do anal at least--” he picked a number “--ten times, before she does double penetration.”

Laurent clearly saw that Auguste was more vulnerable to her appeals than Damen. “Brother,” she said. “Don’t you want to fuck me?”

“Oh, honey,” Auguste said. “Of course I do. But today I’m going to fuck Damen.”

Laurent pouted. “You just said that because you were mad at me.”

“I might still be mad at you.”

“You can fuck me even if you’re mad,” said Laurent.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” said Auguste, smiling wryly. “Maybe if you’re nice to Damen he’ll fuck you while I’m fucking him.”

Damen groaned at that mental picture. 

“Why does he get to have both?” said Laurent, irritably.

“Because he didn’t piss me off, earlier today,” said Auguste, false-sweet. “Get on the bed, Damen,” Auguste said. “Laurent, your choice if you want to be under him.” 

Laurent stretched out on her back in the middle of the bed and spread her legs, which Damen took as an answer. He knelt between her legs, and then bent forward to rest on his forearms. Laurent touched his shoulders gently. 

“Go ahead,” Auguste said, positioning Damen’s cock with one of his hands, and Damen sunk forward slowly into Laurent. She felt amazing; he could have been perfect content just to fuck her, but he knew Auguste had more in mind, so he waited.

“Use your fingers again,” he told Auguste. “And more lube.”

Auguste muttered something about Damen being ridiculously demanding, but Damen felt a slick finger enter him.

“That’s one finger,” Auguste said, and Damen got the impression that his narration was more for Laurent’s benefit than Damen’s.

Auguste’s stretching proceeded somewhat more quickly this second time of the night. “Two fingers,” he said, soon enough, and then, after he had stretched Damen with both of those, “Three fingers.”

“How many fingers are you going to give him?” Laurent asked. She squirmed a little, impatiently, under Damen, which was a kind of delicious sensation.

“How many would you want,” said Auguste, “if you were going to take the cock?”

Laurent looked considering. “Whose cock?” she said.

“Mine,” said Auguste.

“Whose fingers?” said Laurent.

“Jesus,” said Auguste. “You’re as bad as he is.” He removed his hand from stretching Damen and positioned himself behind them. “I’m going to fuck him now,” Auguste said.

“Fine,” said Laurent. “Get on with it.” 

Damen felt on the verge of laughter.

Auguste pressed at his entrance, and Damen could feel him breach. “That’s the tip,” said Auguste. “Do you need more foreplay, Damen?” he asked, mock solicitous.

“Keep going,” Damen said. It felt amazing. He hadn’t been fucked in--he couldn’t actually remember. When had he hooked up with that guy at his gym? It had been before Auguste had joined his gym and he had thought Auguste was hitting on him, so it must have been more than a year ago. 

Auguste slid in evenly until Damen felt his hips against his ass. Damen groaned. 

Auguste began a slow and steady rhythm. Damen echoed it in his rocking into Laurent. Auguste talked to Laurent the whole time. Damen wasn’t sure how Auguste was coordinated enough to fuck and talk at the same time, that always eluded him, but Auguste was good at it. “Are you paying attention, honey?” said Auguste. “Do you see how well he’s taking it? That’s how you should learn to take a cock in the ass, just spread and take it, whenever I feel like giving it to you--”

“I want it,” Laurent said. She was also better at talking during sex than Damen was. “I want to feel it, Auguste.”

“You will, honey,” he said. “If you’re good, then I’ll give it to you.”


	8. Laurent’s First Anal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Auguste is knifed again, France is disparaged, and Laurent makes a video.

Damen would have guessed, after the time that Auguste fucked Damen, that Auguste introducing Laurent to anal was imminent. 

Instead, the following day, having moved to Auguste’s bed, which had more space for the three of them, Auguste threaded his hand into Laurent’s hair and pulled on it, hard.

It was the kind of gesture that Auguste himself liked--Damen had done it once or twice while they were kissing. And he used a firm pressure, but it wouldn’t have been more painful than any of a dozen other things that Laurent had been a vocal fan of.

But at the pressure on her hair, Laurent’s breathy and evidently performative “No, I can’t,” which was often a refrain for her, turned into a flat, “Stop! Don’t!”

Auguste let her go. Damen, who hadn’t actually been touching her at that moment, raised his hands carefully, keeping them spread and visible.

Laurent sat up. “Don’t pull my hair,” she said, sounding calm again.

“Laurent,” in contrast, Auguste sounded strangled. “Did he--”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” said Laurent.

“Are there other things,” Auguste pressed. “That we shouldn’t do? I need to know, honey, I don’t want to--”

Laurent shook her head. 

“I just--” Auguste’s voice broke.

“No,” said Laurent. “There aren’t other things. I like everything else.” 

Auguste still looked stricken.

“It’s fine,” said Laurent. “You can pull Damen’s hair, okay? He likes it.”

Damen didn’t have any particular feelings about hair pulling one way or another.

“I don’t give a fuck about hair pulling,” said Auguste.

“Stop being boring,” said Laurent. “Come here, Damen,” she said.

Auguste went back to being hesitant and reserved. He stopped touching Laurent’s hair entirely. Damen tested some gentle cradling of her head, which she didn’t object to and seemed to purr about, and he brushed her hair behind her ear occasionally when it was messy, and she just smiled at him. 

Auguste’s hesitancy was interrupted by a work trip back to France. Damen stayed at his place with Laurent while he was gone, and this time both of them slept in Auguste’s bed. 

Auguste called Laurent on the phone a few times and told her how the French were horrible people and all of them knew English but none of them would speak English. “Damen knows French,” Laurent said, which got Auguste started on some kind of rant, and then that evening in bed Laurent said, “Speak French to me.”

Most of the French Damen knew was actually from a culinary course he had taken, so he touched Laurent while talking about the proper way to make choux pastry and she laughed and then moaned and then phoned Auguste and put him on speaker audio to piss him off.

While Auguste was gone, Laurent was full of questions about what they had done. How did it feel when Auguste’s cock had been inside of him? Did he like it? Was it good? Did it hurt? Did he like fucking people in the ass like Auguste did?

“Yes,” Damen said.

“Will you,” said Laurent, “put your mouth, there, again?” She blushed prettily as she said it, as though she were a little bit shy to ask, and Damen found it endlessly endearing. Auguste wasn’t there to interrupt them by getting bored, so Damen could stretch it on for hours. 

The last day of Auguste’s trip, Laurent suggested a toy, and Damen played with her clit while he worked the slim toy into her ass, and when he turned on the vibration she tensed up and came, much faster than he was used to, so naturally he left the vibrator exactly where it was and went down on her to see if he could get a second time.

Damen was at work when Auguste got back from the airport, and the bakery owner was on vacation the following week so he had double shifts four days in a row and didn’t see Laurent and Auguste at all, just going back to his room at Nikandros’s to crash for a few hours before he had to go back to work.

He got a day off, then, to rest, and he had to think for a moment to realize it was a Saturday. Perfect. Auguste and Laurent should both be at home.

He messaged them, and Laurent messaged back that Auguste was at “some work thing” but that Damen should definitely come over.

Watching Laurent play hostess was hilarious. He let himself in, but she came over to the door to greet him, almost bouncing with excitement. Then she watched him take off his shoes and coat without offering to put them in the closet or anything. After a moment she seemed to realize she should be hospitable and said, “Do you want a drink or anything?”

“I’m good,” said Damen.

And then she just launched herself at him, and between her climbing him and Damen lifting her, he found himself with his back against the door and Laurent in his arms, kissing him. 

“Hi,” he said, when she pulled away for a moment, panting.

“I missed you,” she said, “why do you work so much?”

“I work--” she kissed him “--way less than Auguste,” Damen objected, but that didn’t seem to matter to Laurent.

They ended up in her narrow twin bed, and the first time was fast. Their shirts were still on and Damen’s pants only made it to mid thigh. 

After, they were still pressed close together simply because of the size of the bed. Damen thought about sitting up to finish taking off his clothing. And then maybe taking off Laurent’s clothes. And then maybe spreading her legs to go down on her--

Laurent reached for her phone.

“Do you want to see something?” she said.

“What is it?” said Damen.

She smiled, coy, and pulled up a video. She started it, and then set the phone down on the bed between them. Damen rolled onto his side and propped his head up on his arm to watch. Laurent was on her stomach and resting her chin on a pillow.

The video was--Auguste’s living room. Damen recognized the fireplace, and the skyline through the window, and the designer armchair that always kind of reminded Damen of a chair in a dentist’s office. 

Damen looked up at Laurent briefly, but her attention was still on the video. He looked back.

Auguste appeared in the frame, then. First his torso, as he walked past wherever the camera had been set up, and then when he sat in the armchair, he was completely in view. In the chair, he was doing something on his phone.

“Did he know you were making this video?” said Damen.

Laurent hummed. “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

Damen was a bit more dubious about that than she was.

In the video, Laurent crawled into Auguste’s lap on the chair. “Ooof,” said Auguste, as she accidentally elbowed him. She finally arranged herself in his lap to her satisfaction. Auguste shifted, getting a funny expression. “Are you--buzzing?” he said.

Laurent in the video smiled secretively. 

Auguste slid a hand into her pants. He must have found something--a toy inside of her, Damen assumed--because he shook his head slowly. “You little slut,” he said.

“Auguste,” Laurent said in the video.

“Mm?”

“Auguste,” Laurent said again. “Auguste I’ve been thinking.”

“‘Thinking,’” Auguste said. “Is that what you call it.”

“I was thinking,” Laurent continued, and her face in the video was away from Auguste but toward the camera, so Damen could see an absolutely wicked expression on her face. “I was thinking I’m going to ask Damen to fuck me in the ass.”

Auguste had only been paying half-attention to her, even when she was sitting in his lap with some kind of toy inside of her, but it was clear that this comment garnered his full attention.

“What?” he said.

Laurent composed her expression from wicked to innocent and doe-eyed, and then raised her head to look at Auguste. “I think he’d be really good at it,” she said. “I think his cock would feel so good, inside of me.” She moaned a little as she said it. It was very persuasive. 

Auguste had his mouth half-open, staring.

Laurent continued. “He said I would have to stretch a lot, with toys, first.”

“You talked about this with him!” said Auguste.

They had never talked about this, Damen noted. 

“I might need larger toys,” said Laurent in the video. “Because he’s so big.” She produced a tiny butt plug the size of Damen’s smallest finger. It was pink. “Damen is much bigger than this.”

In the video, Auguste was obviously indignant and extremely turned on and trying to decide what to do about it.

Damen swallowed and turned toward Laurent. “Do you have it?” he asked.

She looked up. “The plug?”

He nodded.

She nodded.

“Get it,” he said. 

Laurent paused the video, and then leaned over the side of the bed to tug a box out from under it. She opened the box. Damen was deeply curious about this box, and made a mental note for later, but she pulled herself back up on the top of the bed holding the small pink plug. 

Damen held out his hand, and she gave it to him. 

He spit on the end of it, and then, letting her watch, he sat up and he reached his hand down to her ass. He used one hand to spread her cheeks, and then the other to press the small plug inside of her smoothly. 

He kept the fingers of his left hand resting on her ass with his fingertips on the base of the plug, and he lay back down and nodded at the video.

Laurent shivered, once, and then started it playing again. 

In the video, Auguste was talking. Of course. “--spoiled brat,” he said. “You think that you can sit on my lap, with some toy buzzing in your pussy like a slut who can’t get enough, and talk about letting some other man fuck you in the ass?”

“Not ‘some other man,’” said Laurent. “Damen.”

“I don’t care how many other men you want to take,” said Auguste, shifting her around in the video to start removing her pants. “I’m going to be first.”

It was another moment where Laurent’s face was visible to the camera but not to her brother, and she shot a look of complete triumph at the camera before turning back to Auguste a little wide-eyed.

“But--” said Laurent. “Damen said he would rim me, first.” 

That sent Auguste off again, with another series of objections about how Laurent was spoiled.

Not in the video, Damen turned toward Laurent. He tapped the fingers he had on the plug inside her to get her attention. 

She looked at him.

“Does he do it? Did he do it?”

“Spoilers,” Laurent smirked.

“Laurent, tell me,” Damen insisted.

“What do you think?” she asked.

In the video, Auguste had gotten Laurent’s pants off and was circling her hole with a finger. “Are you--” he said, sounding aghast. “Did you already get yourself slick for this?”

The Laurent on Auguste’s lap squirmed a little. “I was thinking--”

“Slut!” Auguste said, and he gripped her ass cheek with his other hand and stopped circling his finger to push it inside of her. “What are you putting in here?”

Laurent whimpered.

“That toy?” said Auguste, in the video. Outside the video, Damen tapped on the toy again.

Laurent was pouting in the video. “Maybe.”

“Your fingers?”

“Maybe.”

“Damen’s fingers?” Auguste’s hand was clearly gripping her ass hard.

“Maybe,” Laurent said again.

Auguste did not seem to be discouraged by not really getting any answers. “Other toys?” Before Laurent could drawl another noncommittal answer, Auguste inserted a second finger.

“I can feel,” he said, “that toy buzzing inside of you.”

“So can I,” said Laurent.

The two of them were quiet for a moment in the video, each of them focusing on Laurent’s body. 

“Damen would get me off first,” Laurent said, sly. 

“Fuck that,” said Auguste. “You can come clenched around my cock for my pleasure.”

Laurent apparently liked that, because she shuddered in the video and she even shivered next to Damen listening to it again.

“Did you?” said Damen.

“Again with the spoilers,” Laurent said.

In the video, Auguste had opened his pants and instead of teasing Laurent’s hole with his fingers, was using the head of his cock.

“Is this where you want Damen to fuck you?” he said.

“Yes,” Laurent moaned. “Please,” she said. “Brother, I want it so much.”

“Should I get you ready for Damen?”

“Yes,” Laurent hissed.

Laurent was still on his lap, so it took some coordination between the two of them to lower Laurent at the right angle. 

Damen’s angle in the video of the penetration was not especially good, but he could imagine it. He tugged slightly on the plug inside Laurent, imagining it. 

Auguste seemed similarly dissatisfied with their position in the video, and he said, to Laurent, “Hold on.”

Laurent obviously had no idea what he meant, but he reached to the side and reclined the chair, Laurent balanced on top of him. Once the chair was tilted back, so that Auguste was parallel to the floor, he motioned for Laurent’s legs to go off on either side of the chair, under the arm rests, so that Laurent was poised on Auguste’s lap on the chair as though she were riding a horse.

Laurent had to use her thigh muscles, in the video, to raise herself up when Auguste tapped her, and then he used his hand to position himself again, and she sank down slowly, until his cock was completely sheathed in her ass.

Auguste reached for her clit, lazily. “If you want to please _Damen_ ,” he said pointedly, “you should definitely clench down when you come.”

“ _If_ I come,” said Laurent.

“Oh no,” said Auguste. “We’re staying here _until_ you come.”

Laurent rocked back and forth reflexively in the video, exploring the sensations inside of her and moving toward and away from the teasing of Auguste’s hand.

Auguste was talking, a running commentary of how well Laurent was taking it and how good she looked with a cock in her ass. “You love this.” 

Damen couldn’t take it any longer. He pulled Laurent next to him on the bed, rubbing his hard cock a bit against her hip. He reached a hand down her front, slipping a finger within her, and found her still slick inside.

“Laurent,” he said. “Laurent, I want to--”

“In the ass,” Laurent said, and Damen groaned just at the words.

“Do you have--”

She produced lube from the same box she’d produced the toy, and Damen put some on his fingers, withdrew the plug, and inserted a finger.

The phone, ignored now, was still playing Auguste’s dirty talk in the background.

Damen added more lube, and inserted a second finger. 

Damen tuned into what Auguste was saying. “Damen will want,” he sounded slightly breathless in the video audio now, “you to squeeze around him, you should practice that.”

“I only said that to get you to play with me,” said Laurent.

“Quitter,” said Auguste. “Tighten up.”

Damen had no idea if Laurent obeyed in the video, but she tightened up around his fingers as though listening to the instructions now.

They ended up with Laurent on her hands and knees, Damen behind her. He put his hands on her waist--mainly to keep her from bucking too eagerly back against him--and fucked her quickly.

He glanced down and realized the phone was still playing. Auguste and Laurent had left the chair, apparently, and Auguste had made her bend over in the living room, balancing with her hands pressed flat against the floor. “This is a good position for you,” Auguste said.

“Did he get you off?” Damen grunted. 

“Yes,” said Laurent, and then she dissolved into other words about good it was, please Damen, right there--

Afterward, Damen collapsed next to Laurent a second time, thinking a second time about going down on her. He had his hand on her now, working her with his fingers, but he could do better if he used his mouth--he just needed to catch his breath.

Laurent was ahead of him, though, arching and shuddering against the heel of Damen’s palm, and when he slipped a finger inside to press at her g spot and try for a second close after the first, she was soaked. 

She also wasn’t making much sense. “That’s two,” she said, closing her eyes and leaning against Damen’s chest and sounding satisfied.

Damen’s attention was caught by Laurent’s laptop sitting on her desk across the room. He thought there was a red light next to the webcam. “Laurent--are you recording this?”


	9. Double Penetration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Laurent takes two cocks at once, Damen begins a quest to make Laurent squirt, and more of Auguste’s obsession with cleanliness is revealed.

Damen had not thought much about his comment to Auguste that Laurent had to take it up the ass at least ten times before they both fucked her at the same time. His main point had been to keep Auguste from doing something crazy, because Auguste was a little bit crazy and Laurent was definitely crazy, so sometimes when the two of them had an idea it was a bit frightening.

Laurent’s introduction to anal had definitely been Auguste’s favorite thing so far. Auguste loved anal, and had as long as Damen had known him. 

But Damen didn’t think Auguste had been thinking much about his comment about Laurent taking it at least ten times either, probably because Auguste had planned to ignore that as soon as he could persuade Damen.

The point was, that they were lazing about, idling caressing each other and messing about on their phones, when Laurent said, sounding impatient, “It’s been ten times!”

Damen and Auguste both looked at each other cluelessly. Laurent continued. “Okay but you’ll do it together, now, front and back, right?”

Damen was fairly sure neither of them had been planning that, but neither were they inclined to turn the idea down.

It took some effort. Usually, Damen and Auguste had a system with women they picked up, where Damen got them off at least once, then started fucking them and got them all turned on again, and then Auguste talked them into how hot it would be for the woman to take both of them at the same time.

They started with Laurent in the usual way, and Damen began fucking her and had her very turned on with no trouble, Laurent was just impatiently waiting for Auguste to join as well. It wasn’t necessary for Auguste to talk her into it, since she was already on board, and so Damen just got to play with her nipples while Auguste prepared her with his fingers. Laurent was a little bit ticklish along her sides, and sometimes Damen let his fingers stray, which kept her laughing and relaxed and squirming on Damen’s cock and Auguste’s fingers.

“Okay,” said Auguste, pressing Laurent forward. She lay against Damen’s chest obediently. “Spread your legs.” Her knees were up on either side of Damen’s hips. “Now relax, honey.”

Laurent did not feel relaxed. She was kind of trembling against Damen. He watched her face as Augusted pushed inside. Her eyes closed, and then her mouth opened slightly, and then her forehead scrunched up, and then she whimpered a little bit. “Is it in?”

“That’s the start of it,” said Auguste, sounding encouraging, but after a minute or so Laurent’s expression was still vaguely pained and Auguste was still having trouble. 

“Can we--” said Laurent. “Auguste you go first,” she said. “Then add Damen.”

She fidgeted on top of Damen so that his cock was rubbing her stomach rather than inside of her, and Auguste reached for more lube. Without Damen already inside of her, filling her, it was much easier for Auguste to penetrate her all the way. Damen wedged a hand in between himself and Laurent to feel at her clit. 

He slid a finger inside of her, where she was warm and wet. He could feel Auguste’s cock already making her full. 

“Damen,” Laurent directed. “Now.”

Damen moved his hand to reposition himself, and shifted on the bed a tiny amount to push in.

“I don’t know if it will work,” said Laurent, when Damen was half inside of her.

Auguste leaned down to kiss her shoulder. “Just relax.”

Damen rocked a little bit more, edging deeper, and Auguste echoed the movement after him, and Laurent seemed to catch the rhythm and she started going with the flow of the motion, rocking a little bit more against each of them in turn, even as it meant she was fully penetrated on both sides.

Auguste’s talking seemed even more out of control than usual. He had the typical words about how beautiful Laurent was, and how good she felt, and then his talk degenerated into a long ramble about how she was made for this, this is exactly why she was here, to be taking both of their cocks.

Auguste was so into it that he came first, but stayed hard, still inside of her. Damen could see his face contort with his orgasm, but could still feel him inside of Laurent, and if he softened a little Laurent did not seem to even notice. 

“How do you feel, Laurent?” Damen asked, but she was so cross-eyed with pleasure by that point that she only moaned a little bit, rocking against him, and she came around both of their cocks, constricting in waves around them, and leaving Damen even wetter with her juices beneath her. Auguste was definitely going to freak out about changing the sheets.

Afterward, when Auguste had finally pulled out and Damen had fucked Laurent to a final small orgasm and then come himself, and then Auguste had made them all stand up while he changed the sheets, Auguste held Laurent as they relaxed in bed. Auguste was more willing to cuddle after they had just reached some new level of kinkiness, it seemed, and Laurent was taking advantage of that and curled up against him. 

Auguste was still talking to her, murmuring quietly that one cock wasn’t going to satisfy her anymore, and how now she would just want to be stuffed full all the time. 

Damen thought, perhaps, that the first time that they both took Laurent at the same time, was the first time she squirted, from all the delicious pressure of the two of them inside of her simultaneously. 

He couldn’t really be sure, since he hadn’t been able to really see what was happening, just feel the results, but it started him on a new quest regardless, the quest to make Laurent squirt while he could watch. Damen already loved getting Laurent off, he loved getting her off as many times as possible in a row, and seeing her squirt just seemed like good evidence that he was bringing her off as effectively as possible.

He didn’t explain his quest to Laurent or Auguste, but he started focusing their bedplay even more on getting her off. 

Auguste found it kind of boring. Damen would start going down on Laurent. Auguste liked watching this for a while, commenting on how pretty they were together, or how much of a slut Laurent was for Damen’s tongue, or fake-scolding Laurent that if she kept pulling Damen’s hair he was going to end up bald. 

But eventually Auguste would say, “Are you going to keep doing that forever?”

“Yes,” Damen said, and Auguste might wander off to the kitchen.

Auguste told Damen that he could usually tell when something interesting was going to happen by Laurent’s raising cries, and it was true that he usually reappeared toward the end, when Laurent was beet red and and sweaty. Sometimes Damen liked to make Laurent hold her legs up, but she had a tendency to kick him in the head, so it was easier to put her face down on the bed, hugging her legs to her chest while Damen worked his fingers in her vigorously.

Damen didn’t usually bother to psychoanalyze other people, but if he had to guess why Auguste was less interested in making Laurent squirt, he would guess that half of it was that Auguste had a vaguely pathological need for things to be clean, and making Laurent squirt inevitably made both of them a mess and left wet spots and streaks all over the bed.

One time, after he had made her squirt and Laurent was breathing heavily in the bed, Damen had jerked off and come on her chest, and Auguste announced that Damen was “filthy!” and had literally carried the sweaty and come-covered Laurent off to run a bath.

Damen lay in bed, exhausted and sweaty himself and less bothered by the wet spots than Auguste, and listened to water running in the bathtub. He could hear sounds of the faucet, and the water in the tub becoming deeper, and then Laurent squealed and there was a splashing sound. “Jesus, you’re drenched,” Auguste said. “Everything is slippery.”

Laurent moaned a little with a noise that Damen recognized and strongly suspected was her having a small orgasm, and he wondered what Auguste was doing to her. 

“Don’t,” Laurent said, sounding wrecked. “Auguste, I have to pee.”

“Hold it,” Auguste said, impatient. “I’m trying to do you a favor and clean you up.”

“Auguste.” Laurent’s tone was plaintive.

“Not in the bath!” Auguste said. 

There were more splashing noises. Laurent moaned again. 

Damen’s curiosity finally overcame his laziness and he stood up, wiping himself off cursorily with his dirty t-shirt and throwing it in the hamper. 

In the bathroom, Auguste and Laurent were a pretty picture. Laurent sat on the toilet while Auguste rubbed her hair dry with a towel. Laurent was naked and resting her forehead against Auguste’s stomach, a little above the towel he’d wrapped around his waist.

They were both beautiful. Damen smiled.

Auguste turned slightly Damen’s direction and Damen could see he had an exasperated expression. “Come on, just do it,” said Auguste.

Laurent made a noise of protest in her throat, and then Auguste reached down to rub one of her nipples between two fingers and her protest died off and Damen could hear the tinkle of her peeing in the toilet.

In general, Auguste and Laurent liked to relax together in the bath. Auguste was much more tolerant about cuddling, in the bath, than he was in other circumstances, and Laurent seemed content to lounge against him and he to hold her until the water went cold. 

Damen had a vague impression, from things that Laurent had said, that they had perhaps bathed together even before he had met the two of them, and that raised a lot more questions than it answered, but the way Laurent had mentioned it hadn’t invited further questions.

Sometimes they just lounged together, and sometimes Damen would peak in to find Auguste holding one of Laurent’s feet and carefully shaving her calf.

Damen sat down to watch that, because they were beautiful together naked in the bath and Auguste was somber and focused as he shaved Laurent and her head was tipped back against the edge of the tub with her eyes closed, relaxed. It made sense to Damen now why Auguste had an enormous bathroom that even had a bench in it; the bench was where Damen could sit when he watched Auguste shave his sister.

“You’re both gorgeous,” Damen said honestly, appreciating all of the creamy skin in the water.

Auguste was still concentrating on his work. “She can’t be trusted to do this herself,” he said. “Last time, she ended up with all sorts of red spots.”

“It was a bad razor,” said Laurent sleepily.

“I wish you’d let me shave you,” said Auguste, looking Damen’s direction.

“You can shave my face,” said Damen. This had come up between them before, and the problem wasn’t that he didn’t trust Auguste around him with a razor, the problem was that Auguste wanted to get rid of all of his pubic hair. 

Damen was willing to agree to a tidy trim with an electric razor, but he didn’t want it all to come off. 

Auguste made a dissatisfied noise at Damen, ran his fingers carefully all over Laurent’s calf, and, finding it to his satisfaction, lowered that leg into the water and took her other leg. 

Damen hoped that Auguste hadn’t done her bikini area yet, he especially liked watching that.

He hadn’t, and as Auguste finished with her legs he glanced Damen’s direction again. “Come be useful and hold her,” he said, and Damen shucked his sweatpants and joined the two of them in the tub. 

Auguste’s tub was large, but it was a little bit cramped for three people. Damen slid in behind Laurent. The water was warm. She leaned back against him, and he used one leg and one arm to prop her up a bit so that her pelvis was floating at the surface. She hooked her knees over the sides of the tub, leaving her spread in front of Auguste obscenely.

Auguste had a whole collection of razors set out on a stool next to the tub, and he switched tools, and then leaned back in. 

One of the reasons Damen liked watching Auguste shave Laurent so much was that Auguste was so concentrated on getting her clean that he didn’t seem to notice how much he was fingering her.

Laurent tended to squirm away when Damen fingered her, and he held her firmly and made her take it, that was part of the game between them. Auguste rarely fingered her besides a cursory check of how wet she was, so she seemed to genuinely be trying to hold still for his work. Or perhaps she knew that if she squirmed he might cut her, either way, it was fascinating to see Auguste at work and Laurent trying very patiently to be motionless.

But his hands were all over her. Damen couldn’t tell if it was deliberate or not. He didn’t have to stick a finger inside her and a knuckle against her clit to shave her carefully, did he? Or perhaps he did, it was obviously fine work that required a lot of dexterity.

She wiggled a little, and Auguste yelped, and then there was a tiny spot of blood welling up on her skin, and Auguste leaned in and sucked at it for a moment. Laurent whimpered.

“Don’t wiggle,” Auguste said, pulling away, and tapping her clit hard as an admonishment, and he continued. “Damen, hold her still.”

Damen tightened his hold on her hips. Her head was against his shoulder and her hair smelled like oranges. “He cut me,” Laurent complained.

“You wiggled,” Damen said.

Laurent pouted.

Auguste finished, and set his razor on the stool next to the tub, and did a thorough inspection of Laurent with his hands, looking for any hair he might have missed. He rubbed the heel of his hand over her mound, and his fingers along her lips and then dipping inside of her, and then trailing back to her ass.

“You’re all wet,” Auguste said, his fingers inside her.

“You’ve been touching me,” said Laurent, with a ‘duh’ tone.

Auguste ignored this and leaned in to trail over her with his lips and his mouth where his fingers had been. He wasn’t nearly as interested in going down on her as Damen was, so it was a rare display. Damen watched eagerly, holding Laurent’s hips still.

The ends of Auguste’s hair were wet where they trailed in the water, his face was still solemn as he focused on Laurent. His eyes closed as Damen watched his tongue trace over her. 

A small noise escaped Laurent.

“You’re so greedy,” said Auguste. 

“Please,” said Laurent.

“Later,” Auguste said. “I have to do under your arms.”

Laurent whimpered. 

Auguste moved her legs back into the tub to shift her around. Some water splashed a bit on the floor. Laurent’s ass rubbed deliciously against Damen’s cock as she shifted around in his lap, and then that seemed to give her an idea, and she squirmed again against him, more deliberately.

Damen caught on, and lowered one of his hands into the water to help position himself so she could slide on top of him. She felt delicious around his cock, warmer than the bathwater but just as wet.

Auguste was selecting a different razor and had turned back their direction. He regarded Laurent, who probably looked innocent, and Damen, who undoubtedly looked guilty.

“Are you--” said Auguste.

“Am I what?” said Laurent coolly. She leaned back against Damen and raised one arm for Auguste. “You said you wanted to--”

Auguste eyed her for a moment, then cast a suspicious look at Damen, then glanced down at where the soapy water evidently obscured exactly what was going on, and then leaned in with his razor. “Don’t wiggle,” he warned, and Laurent held very still. 

Damen ran a hand over the smooth, hairless skin of her thigh. 

Auguste finished with her armpit, trailed a finger over it, checking, and then switched to her other arm. Laurent hooked it obediently behind Damen’s head to give him access.

She was holding still in her upper body, but doing something amazing and sinuous with her internal muscles and he was fighting back a groan. 

Auguste finished there as well, and he inspected his work and was satisfied, and then he set his razor aside on the stool once again.

Laurent tightened around him again and this time Damen couldn’t suppress his groan.

“You’re fucking her, aren’t you,” Auguste said.

“Am not,” said Laurent.

“Liar,” said Auguste.

“I am,” Damen confessed. “She’s so tight, Auguste--”

“Turn around,” said Auguste. “I want to--”

“There’s not enough space in the tub,” said Laurent, tightening around Damen again.

“You minx,” said Auguste. “There is plenty of space,” and he half-manhandled her into turning around on Damen’s lap until she was facing him.

She slipped off of him in the movement, but Damen didn’t object when she was seated again to the new position, because now he could kiss her, and Auguste’s fingers were under the water and doing interesting things to where they were joined.

Damen loved kissing Laurent. He loved kissing Auguste. He loved kissing in general but it was even better with the two of them. He took Laurent’s mouth and teased it, letting her bite a little at his lips and cling to his shoulders as Auguste’s fingers explored her ass. 

“Damen, scoot forward,” said Auguste.

Damen did, moving Laurent with him. 

“Auguste,” Laurent complained. “You’re going to get all kinds of water on the floor.”

“You don’t care about water on the floor,” said Auguste, which was true, Laurent was not attentive to such things and Auguste was frequently upset that she left wet towels in the middle of the floor. Auguste ignored Laurent’s irrelevant complaints, and Damen could feel him positioning for double penetration.

Their position in the bathtub was awkward. It would have been easier, perhaps, if Damen and Auguste had each had one less leg to try to fit somewhere. But Auguste managed it, and Damen groaned at how Laurent felt even tighter inside as both of them were squeezed within.

“Do that thing again,” Damen begged.

Laurent was still being pouty. “What thing.”

“The thing you were doing, inside,” said Damen. “Where you.”

“This?” said Laurent, tightening. “Yes,” Damen hissed. Auguste groaned. “Do that again.”

Laurent did, and then, amidst a stream of complaints about how no one had even gotten her off yet, god, what kind of useless lovers were they, she did it again, and she had really been right all along because by the end there was an awful lot of water on the floor. 

Auguste had been right also, because Laurent didn’t care about the spilled bathwater, and she marched off toward the bedroom still dripping, insisting that Damen follow her because “Someone still hasn’t gotten off here!” and leaving Auguste to throw a towel on the floor to sop up all of the mess.


	10. A Scare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Laurent goes on a class trip, and then Laurent is frightened and Damen is confused, and then Auguste is angry and Damen is confused, and finally there is talking.

Laurent went on some kind of class trip to the state capital for three days, and Damen found himself anxiously pacing his own kitchen. “Wow, you’re here,” said Nikandros. “I thought since you and Auguste had confessed your love for each other you had basically moved in.”

“Laurent is on a class trip,” Damen said, ignoring Nikandros’s harassment and not really thinking.

Nikandros frowned. “Doesn’t that just give the two of you more freedom to like, do it in the kitchen or something?”

“Auguste is too much of a neat freak for that,” said Damen.

“That’s for damn sure,” said Nikandros, but it was clearly too much for Damen to be able to make conversation with him now, so Damen texted Auguste and asked what he was doing.

Auguste wasn’t doing anything--and he didn’t have a roommate to harass him like Damen did--so Damen went over there anyway. Auguste ordered food from the Chinese place that Laurent insisted was awful but that the two of them thought was great, and they ate and stared at the television and refused to admit that they were moping.

“We should go out,” said Auguste. They hadn’t really been out in months.

“I don’t really feel like it,” said Damen honestly. 

Auguste sighed. “These wontons are kind of greasy,” he said. 

Damen was still there, when it was time to sleep, and he thought awkwardly that maybe he should leave, and go back to his place, but Auguste didn’t mention it, and then Damen thought that maybe he should sleep on the couch, or in Laurent’s twin bed in her room, or something, but Auguste didn’t mention that either, and then finally Auguste said, “I’m exhausted,” and looked over his shoulder as he yawned in an obvious invitation, and Damen followed him to his bedroom. 

Damen had slept there plenty of times when they hadn’t had sex--or at least, it must have happened at least once or twice. And he had been in bed with Auguste before when it was just the two of them, but it was always because they were waiting for Laurent--if she was finishing a paper in some kind of all nighter--or because they were sleeping in on Saturday morning and Laurent had already gotten up to eat cereal. It seemed oddly strange to Damen to crawl into the bed with Auguste and know that Laurent wasn’t going to be joining them.

The strangeness lasted for about three minutes, and then Auguste was snoring, as usual, and Damen had mashed his favorite pillow into the perfect position, and he fell asleep.

In the morning, he woke up hard and thinking of sex--he’d become accustomed to so much sex, the last few months--and he had his hand stroking himself slowly before he’d really thought about it, and by the time he realized, Auguste was doing the same.

“Do you think Laurent is--” Damen had been going to say okay, or lonely, or something along those lines, but Auguste interrupted.

“Touching herself?” said Auguste.

Damen hadn’t been thinking that, but now he was picturing it.

“No,” Auguste answered his own question. “She’s too lazy to get herself off.”

“Maybe if we’re not there,” said Damen.

Auguste scoffed. “It’s not like she’d pack her favorite toys, staying in a hotel room with three other girls.”

Damen was picturing that now, vividly. He knew exactly what Laurent’s favorite toys looked like, and in his head, the three other girls looked just like Laurent except with different hair colors, and all four of them together in a hotel room sounded amazing.

“Ugh you’re thinking about it now, aren’t you,” said Auguste.

“You brought it up,” said Damen. “It’s hot.”

“It’s like that porn we watched,” said Auguste.

“What porn?” 

“You know,” said Auguste. “With the girl with the tattoo--” that didn’t really narrow it down, but it didn’t really matter, and Damen’s imagination took over anyway. 

Laurent returned from her class trip, reported only that it had been “boring” and didn’t respond to any of Damen’s hinting questions about what might have happened in her hotel room.

Only a few days after she returned, Auguste’s client in France was having some kind of catastrophe, apparently, so he had to go back overseas, and Damen--who was spending most of his time over at Auguste’s place anyway--was convinced to stay there for another week while Auguste was gone, “babysitting” Laurent.

Laurent stayed up late the first night, working at her homework at the kitchen table. When Damen woke up early to go in to the bakery, Laurent had fallen asleep on the couch, and he carried her over to the bed and tucked her in before he left.

She had something after school, so after work he went to the gym, and then when picked her up and they got back to Auguste’s place she said she had more homework. He made her favorite pizza for dinner, but he barely lured her into a slice before she was back in front of her textbook. 

Damen pressed a kiss to the top of her head when he went to bed, and she mumbled something about an exam, and he fell asleep hoping she would come and join him. 

She didn’t. He was still alone in bed when he woke up, and she had fallen asleep wrapped up in one of her favorite pink blankets on her small twin bed in her own room. 

He had to work late, so he got home after her, and he found her in her bedroom, wrapped up again in her pink blanket.

“Hey,” Damen said, leaning against the doorframe. “Are you okay?”

“No,” she said. 

Damen’s eyes widened, and he walked into the room and sat down next to her on the bed gingerly. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

She turned toward him and then launched herself into his arms. He’d been momentarily worried that she was somehow angry with him, so it was something of a relief to have her warm against him, even though she was obviously crying.

“Damen,” she said, repeating his name. “Damen, you can’t tell Auguste, he’s not going to understand.”

“Can’t tell him what?” 

“I didn't mean to!” she said. “I was so careful! And I only missed twice, but--” her words were half obscured by half-sobbing breaths. “Auguste is going to kill me.”

“He’s not, sweetheart,” Damen said. “He loves you.” I love you, he was close to saying. 

“But the test,” she said. 

Damen still wasn’t sure what she was talking about. Was this about the exam she’d been studying for at school?

“It was positive,” said Laurent, and then she started crying again. 

Damen rubbed her back instinctively and made a soothing noise. “Positive?”

“I’m pregnant, Damen,” she sat up a little in his lap and she sounded exasperated now. 

“What?” said Damen. He sounded flabbergasted, even to himself.

“I forgot to take my pills two days in a row, and unfortunately they were just the right days, and then I got one of those test things at the drugstore and it says--”

Damen understood now. “Oh shit.”

Laurent nodded tearfully. “Auguste is going to kill me.”

Auguste was--not going to take this well. He would be more angry with himself than he would be with Laurent, Damen suspected, but he was definitely likely to be very angry with Laurent, Damen agreed. 

“Damen, you can’t tell him.”

“I’m terrible at lying,” said Damen slowly. 

“I just--I just--” said Laurent. “Just don’t tell him. Yet. Don’t tell him.” She clutched at his shirt.

“It’s not my place to tell him,” said Damen. 

Laurent nodded. She rested her face against his shoulder and Damen rubbed her back again reflexively.

“Whose is it?” he said.

He could feel Laurent shrug against him. 

“Do you think it’s mine?” He was thinking back. How long ago would this have been--he had certainly fucked Laurent a lot. 

“I hope so,” said Laurent, and Damen felt a little bit relieved by her emphasis, but as he thought about it more, he supposed she would feel that way. It had nothing to do with her feelings about him, he told himself. It was just that--if it were Auguste’s--it was unthinkable. 

The two of them fell asleep that night in her twin bed, Laurent still wrapped up in her pink blanket like a burrito, and Damen warm enough under just the sheet with her and the blanket on top of him. 

In the morning, Damen woke up to find Laurent looking at him with wide blue eyes.

He smiled at her, reassuringly. “It’s okay, sweetheart.”

“Damen,” she said seriously. “I want to have sex.”

“Okay.”

“But we only have twenty minutes because I have to get to school. And--” she hesitated, chewing on her lower lip. “Do you have any condoms?”

“Let me just go down on you,” he suggested, rolling her onto her side next to him rather than on top of him.

“But I want--” said Laurent.

Damen got up. “Yeah, okay, let me check--”

He had stopped stocking condoms in the way he might have six months prior, when he would have had one in his wallet and in his gym bag. But he knew where Auguste had kept them, so he went into Auguste’s bedroom to look. Laurent trailed behind him, so when Damen stood up from the drawer triumphantly holding a foil package, it was convenient enough to fall onto Auguste’s much larger bed.

Laurent was only five minutes late to school.

The larger problem happened when Auguste returned from France. 

Damen parked his car near Auguste’s building, easing into a spot, and he was about to get out and head up when the passenger door opened.

Auguste sat down next to him. 

“Jesus,” said Damen, “You startled me.”

“We need to talk,” said Auguste.

That was ominous. Did he know about Laurent? And...the baby? Had she told him--? 

Auguste took three empty foil condom wrappers out of his pocket and dropped them on Damen’s lap. “Who are you fucking, at my house, in my bedroom, when I’m not there, and you’re supposed to be watching my sister?” His voice was smooth and dangerous.

Damen’s eyes widened. “No one!”

“You are the worst liar on the planet,” said Auguste. “Did you meet someone?”

“No!”

“Couldn’t you at least have taken them to your place?” said Auguste. “Or brought your own condoms and disposed of the condom wrappers like any kind of intelligent cheating piece of shit?”

“I--” Damen started, but he actually didn’t know how to explain this at all.

“Does Laurent know about this?” said Auguste. “Is that why she’s been all sad?”

“I can’t talk about it,” Damen said miserably, after a long moment. 

There was another long moment as Auguste still seemed to be waiting for some kind of explanation, and then Auguste shook his head. “I can’t believe I left her with you,” he said. “I trusted you.”

Damen buried his face in his hands. “I don’t know how to explain.”

“Obviously,” Auguste scoffed. “You should leave,” he said, and he opened the passenger car door and got out.

Damen watched him walk away from where Damen had parked and into his building. Auguste nodded cordially enough at the doorman as he went in, but didn’t look back at where Damen parked. 

Damen finally drove back to his place in a haze, tried to use the wrong key to open his own apartment door, and finally collapsed on the couch. 

Nikandros came out of his room and seemed surprised to see him. “What’s wrong?”

“I--everything,” Damen said.

Nikandros rolled his eyes. “Are you fighting with Auguste?”

It was more than that, actually, because there was the whole thing with Laurent and the--Damen felt like it was bad to even call it a baby in his own head, but he couldn’t think of how else to think about it--but the thing with Laurent and the argument he’d just had with Auguste. But he couldn’t talk about any of it. He hated lying. He wished he could stop lying entirely and never have to make up an excuse again, but he supposed that that meant he’d have to accept the idea that it was over with Auguste and Laurent for good, and that thought was worse. And he couldn’t leave Laurent now, if she was having his--

“Yes,” he told Nikandros.

Nikandros sat down on a chair across from him. “Well, out with it. What happened?”

Damen sat sullenly for a moment, and then he realized it was relatively straightforward to talk about what had happened with Auguste, even though it wasn’t especially honest. “He thinks I cheated.”

Nikandros raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t know you guys were monogamous.”

Damen made a face. “We have--had--an arrangement.”

“And you broke it?”

“No,” Damen said. “But he thinks I did.”

“Why does he think that?”

“It’s complicated,” said Damen.

Nikandros sighed ruefully. “Of course it is.” He stood up and went to the fridge and then came back and handed Damen a can of beer. “Can’t you just explain to him what actually happened?”

“No,” said Damen miserably. 

“If he doesn’t trust you, then it’s never really going to work out anyway,” said Nikandros, sounding way too rational. 

Damen made a disgusted noise. “I don’t want to talk about it.” He took the beer and went into his own room where he could mope and stare at the ceiling dejectedly without Nikandros trying to reassure him. Nikandros had never liked Auguste anyway.

Damen tried to make a plan. He needed to talk to Laurent. He needed to know what she was going to do, and if she came clean with Auguste, then Auguste could understand, and--

It was possibly the worst afternoon and evening of Damen’s life. He had been dumped before, and he’d been upset, but he had never felt this awful. He had never loved anyone else like he loved Auguste and Laurent, he realized. He didn’t talk about his feelings with them, and now he regretted it. He wished he had spoken to them honestly about how he felt. He didn’t even care if they didn’t feel the same. He kind of suspected, deep down, that Laurent only liked him because he was convenient, but he should have at least shared how he felt. It felt worse, now, thinking it was over and feeling that he’d never really even been able to appreciate what he had.

It couldn’t be over, he told himself. He was going to figure out something.

But what? And how had he thought this was going to go? Being involved with Laurent wasn’t even legal. What Auguste and Laurent was doing wasn’t legal either. There was no happy ending for this. Damen should have seen his present misery coming, he told himself.

Nikandros knocked on his door. “Dude, let’s go out,” he said. “You can hook up with someone else and forget about this.”

“No,” Damen said, and he could almost feel Nikandros lingering in front of his door for a long moment before walking away.

Close to midnight, Damen was still awake, staring at the ceiling, and wallowing in misery. His phone rang.

It was late for anyone to be calling him. He looked over at it and saw Auguste’s name.

He didn’t have any more of an explanation to offer Auguste than he had when they spoke earlier, but he accepted the call anyway.

“Yeah?”

“Damen.” Auguste’s voice was thick with emotion. “Can you come over?”

“I--” said Damen.

“I talked to Laurent,” Auguste said. 

Did that mean he knew about the--

“I’m sorry,” Auguste said. “Can you--can you come over, please?”

“Yeah, okay,” Damen said, and he stood up and put his keys back in his pocket.

Nikandros came out of the bathroom in time to see Damen heading out the door. 

“Where are you going?” Nikandros said suspiciously. “Please tell me you arranged a hookup with some guy in an app and you’re not going back to him--”

“He called,” said Damen defensively. “He said he was sorry.” Damen started out the door, not wanting to fight with Nikandros more.

“You wouldn’t do this if he weren’t blond!” Nikandros shouted after him.

Damen wasn’t sure exactly what to expect, at Auguste’s building. It seemed presumptuous to let himself in, even though he still had a key, so he knocked at the front door of their unit and waited. 

Auguste opened the door after a moment, and he was a mess. His hair was uncharacteristically messy, half falling out of his bun, and his eyes were sort of red and wild. He gestured for Damen to come in, stepping aside, but before Damen could take more than a step, Laurent collided into him, pressing her face against his chest, and she seemed even more of a mess than Auguste.

Auguste closed the door behind Damen and Damen patted Laurent’s back reflexively and realized she was crying. Sobbing, actually. She was distraught. 

“Shh, it’s okay,” he told her.

Laurent looked up at him, her eyes wet and her expression angry. “You can’t leave us,” she said. “You’re not allowed. I need you.”

“I don’t want to leave you,” Damen said, still not sure how much they had discussed in his absence. He cast a look over at Auguste, who seemed wrung out and exhausted. 

Laurent turned to face her brother, keeping Damen’s arms wrapped defiantly around herself. “You can’t make Damen leave,” she said. “I’m having his baby.”

Well, that brought that into the open, and all of Damen’s faint hopes that maybe they had already been having this argument all afternoon were dashed.

Auguste looked like he might faint. “That’s not even funny, Laurent.”

“No one is laughing,” said Laurent, which was true.

They ended up sitting around the kitchen table. Auguste steepled his hands in front of him. “Someone needs to explain,” he said. “I would try to start but I have no idea what the hell is going on.”

Auguste looked at Damen, and Damen turned and looked at Laurent, because she was much better at talking than he was. 

Laurent was chewing on her lower lip again, the way she did when she was nervous. “It’s my fault,” she said.

Auguste made a ‘go on’ gesture.

“A few weeks ago,” said Laurent, “I was stupid. And--” she started to talk a bit faster. “And, I know I was stupid, Auguste, you don’t have to tell me, there’s no way I could possibly feel any more stupid than I already do.”

“How, precisely, were you stupid?” said Auguste, sounding calm.

Laurent shot a nervous glance at Damen, and then looked back at her brother. “I forgot my pills.”

“You forgot,” said Auguste, flatly.

“I got a new pack from the pharmacy and I had it in my backpack instead of in my room, and then I didn’t see it when I--”

“How many times did you forget?”

“Twice,” she said.

“And you told Damen you forgot, and the two of you were responsibly using alternative protection, and no one is pregnant,” said Auguste.

Laurent shook her head slowly. “I didn’t tell Damen until later.”

“How much later.”

“Too much later.”

Auguste rubbed his face with his hands. “How pregnant are you? Is this like a maybe thing, or a few days late thing, or--”

“The test was positive,” said Laurent.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” said Auguste. "How many tests?"

"Four," said Laurent.

Auguste swore again into his hands.

He raised his head after a moment and pulled his hair back into a fresh knot on the top of his head. He tended to do that when he was stressed. When his hair was freshly pulled back, he looked Damen's direction.

"Is there more?"

Damen shook his head. That was all that he knew.

Auguste pressed. "About what we talked about earlier? In the car?"

Oh, the condoms. "Laurent told me about--" Damen waved a hand to encompass what they had just discussed "--last week, when you were in France, and then she wanted to use condoms when we had sex."

Laurent slapped her hands against the table. "Is that what you two were fighting about?"

"Why didn't you just tell me you were fucking her?" said Auguste.

"I promised her I wouldn't tell you about--" Damen waved his hand again.

"Did you just leave the wrappers out in the trash like an idiot?" said Laurent, staring at Damen. "Why didn't you hide them?"

"Look," said Damen. "I don't really know why we're arguing, but I want to tell both of you that even though you might hate me, I love you."

Auguste looked taken aback. Laurent looked stubborn. "That's good," she said, "because we're having a baby."

Damen swallowed hard, and nodded. He stretched out a hand toward Laurent on the kitchen table, palm up, and she put her hand in his and he squeezed it.

"Why do you think it’s his baby, anyway," said Auguste.

This led to a long explanation from Laurent, which Damen really only half understood. It was late, and he was exhausted, and he wasn't sure Laurent was entirely making sense, but his takeaway that she was sure it was Damen's baby half based on her conviction that it had to be and half because of some sort of rationale about a week earlier in the month when she'd apparently only done anal with Auguste and Damen had fucked her seven times.

"Can we go to bed now?" Damen asked, when she finished.

"God, yes," said Auguste, and they walked slowly into his room and collapsed into their usual spots on the bed, Laurent in the middle.

Damen was already half-asleep while he could hear Laurent and Auguste having a conversation.

"Auguste?" Laurent said quietly. He made a noise. "Thank you for not being mad," she said.

"Laurent, I'm furious," he said, equally quiet.

"I know, I just mean. You know." Damen could feel her shift further from his side of the bed and closer to Auguste.

"Go to sleep, Laurent," Auguste said.

The next day, Nikandros texted Damen. "So you're back together?"

Damen didn't reply.

Damen and Laurent had sex after Auguste had gotten up to go work out, and they continued to use condoms at Laurent's request. Damen didn't object, even though it seemed a bit ridiculous to him because if she was already pregnant then what was the difference? It wasn't like she could be more pregnant if he fucked her more. But he had a general policy of never questioning women if they wanted to use condoms and he especially didn't want to argue with Laurent about it.

As far as he knew, Auguste and Laurent were not having sex, either because she was worried or he was angry or some combination of both.

Later in the week, Auguste took an afternoon off of work to take Laurent to a doctor.

Damen got home before them, and so he got to be there when they got back.

Laurent was practically dancing as she came through the door. "Damen, Damen, Damen," she said, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Guess what?" She jumped up a bit and he caught her and lifted her as she put her legs around his waist.

"Hi," he said, looking curiously between her and Auguste. Auguste smiled back, and nodded at Laurent. Damen looked back at her.

"I'm not pregnant!" she said.

"Oh!" he said. "But the tests?"

"Sometimes they're wrong," she said. "Or they were right but then something happened, I don't know, but now I'm bleeding and the doctor said I'm definitely not pregnant!"

"That's--good?" said Damen uncertainly.

"I'm so happy," said Laurent. "I'm never going to complain about getting my period again, this is the happiest I've ever been."

Laurent was heavy, so Damen sat down on the couch with her ending up in his lap. Auguste sat down next to them and rested his head on Damen's shoulder. "False alarm," said Auguste. "And what have we learned from this, Laurent?"

"Always take my pills or use some alternate form of contraception," Laurent chorused. "Damen," she said, bouncing in his lap excitedly. "Let's use an alternate form of contraception right now."

"Don't have sex on the couch if you're bleeding," said Auguste. "Go into the bathtub or something."

Auguste made no motion to move, and Laurent started stripping off her own jacket but didn't move from Damen's lap.

"I think I might get snipped," Auguste said. "I don't want kids, and it's just one less thing to worry about."

Damen raised his eyebrows. "I think I want kids, someday," he said, wondering if Auguste thought he should do the same.

Auguste shrugged, next to him, not seeming to care. "It's an easy procedure," he said. "If you can stop thinking about a surgeon with a knife next to your balls."

Damen was now obviously picturing just that. "They knock you out, right?"

"Of course. But if you want kids then it wouldn't be right for you. I'm thinking about it, though."

"Is it expensive?" said Damen.

Auguste shook his head. "Way cheaper than having a kid."

"Surgery is usually expensive," Damen said.

"Insurance will cover it."

"That's nice," said Damen. "My insurance is terrible. My doctor keeps saying I should have surgery for my knee--" it pained him sometimes, a remnant from a college sports injury "--but it would cost more than ten thousand dollars, he said, and insurance only pays half, and I can't afford that."

"I didn't know you needed surgery," said Auguste, sitting up next to him.

"I mean, I'm not dying or anything," said Damen.

"Let me give you the money," said Auguste.

Laurent had her jacket off but was now watching the two of them back and forth like a tennis match in just her tank top.

"No way," Damen said. "That's not what I meant--"

"I know, but I want to help you," said Auguste.

"I can't accept that," Damen said.

"You help me out all the time. Think of it like payment for babysitting Laurent," said Auguste.

"I don't need a babysitter," Laurent objected.

"I'm not going to pay him to fuck you," said Auguste.

"You should," said Laurent, but Auguste had already turned back to Damen.

"I'd have to pay anyone else who drove her around and stayed with her while I'm away for work," said Auguste. "Take the money."

Damen opened his mouth to refuse again, but Laurent interrupted.

"I have a better plan."

They both looked at her.

"You should get married," she said, sounding triumphant. "Then Damen could be on our insurance, and he could have surgery or whatever without needing to pay for it. You could stay over and move in with us and people won't wonder about it or ask any questions." Auguste looked like he might be about to ask a question, but Laurent continued. "And," she said, "Damen could adopt me, so that if something ever happened to Auguste I wouldn't have to go back to our uncle!"

At that, Auguste got the stricken look he often got when Laurent alluded to their uncle, and lost whatever it had been he might have been about to say.

Damen leaned in to Laurent and brushed his nose against her nose. "You always have the most complicated plans," he said.

"They're good plans," she said.

"What about your plan of having sex," Damen said. "I liked that plan."

"Yes," Laurent said immediately. "We can put a towel on the bed or something so Auguste doesn't flip out," and she ran off to the bedroom while Auguste shouted at her not to use one of his good towels.


	11. The Wedding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Damen meets Ancel, forms an opinion of Ancel’s husband Berenger, introduces Auguste to his parents, and gets married.

The next day, Damen got a phone call from Auguste's assistant. Auguste's assistant was named Ancel, and Damen could tell just from talking to him on the phone that Ancel was the most gay man Damen had ever met. 

"How about the 12th for the shower?" said Ancel.

"What?" Damen said.

"The venue can fit you in at the end of the month, then, on a Sunday, does that work for your family?"

Damen had no idea what Ancel was talking about. Ancel had emailed him once or twice about Auguste's travel plans as they related to watching Laurent, but he'd never spoken to him before.

"Your family is local, right?" said Ancel. "Sunday would be hard for travel but the venue said the next available is--"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," said Damen.

"Yeah, I was pretty sure he was just marrying you for your looks and not your brains," said Ancel. "Though," he continued, considering, "he always insisted he wasn't gay. Which I never really believed. I'll get you a toaster as a wedding present."

"Wedding present," said Damen.

"Why is a toaster a gay thing anyway," said Ancel. "Gay people don't like carbs."

"I'm a baker," said Damen.

Ancel swore like Damen had said something filthy. "Of course you are."

That was just the beginning of what Damen began to think of as "the wedding planning." Auguste had somehow managed to escape the planning by giving Ancel free reign, and also his credit card. Damen was still stuck being the representative for his side of the occasion, though Ancel clearly had his doubts. "Do you even care about this?" Ancel said at one point, when they were arguing about--Damen thought--which florist to use. "Or do you just want me to tell you when to show up?"

"I care!" Damen insisted.

"Really?" said Ancel.

The only part of the wedding planning where Ancel seemed satisfied with Damen's involvement was when they got to talking about the type of cake to have, and Damen had strong opinions and insisted his bakery do it.

Damen was also learning a bit about Ancel himself. Ancel talked a great deal about his own wedding, and his own husband, Berenger. Damen was forming quite an opinion of Berenger, who he imagined as being just as high strung and flamboyant as Ancel himself. Berenger was apparently a partner at Auguste's firm, and Ancel didn't need to work, but he got bored just sitting around the house and he felt bad for Auguste. "He's kind of helpless," Ancel confided in Damen.

Damen thought of Auguste as one of the most capable people he knew, so Damen wasn't sure what to say.

"I tell him things," said Ancel. "And he just blinks his giant blue eyes at me like a baby. Was it the eyes that got you? Or are you more of an ass-man?"

Damen made a half-strangled noise.

After two weeks of planning, dates were picked, venues were reserved, and Ancel was ready to send out invitations. "Give me the addresses of all of your family members."

"I can't do that," said Damen.

"Why not?"

"I haven't told them I'm engaged yet."

"What?" Ancel sounded appalled. "Why not? Auguste is a catch! Why didn't you tell them the day he proposed? Sure, you're hot, but they can't have been thinking that you'd find someone richer." Ancel lowered his voice. "I've seen his financials. His family has money!"

"I don't think my family cares if I marry for money," said Damen.

Ancel sounded even more scandalized by that assertion. "What are you waiting for?"

Damen had no answer to that.

Ancel made a frustrated noise. "I need to send the invites! Call them right now! Wait--" he thought for a moment. "How are you going to explain that you waited to tell them until the day before invites were sent? It's not like you're a girl and he knocked you up or something."

"Maybe this is moving a little fast," said Damen.

"You are not going to redo the arrangements!" said Ancel. "Here's what we'll do. Invite your parents to dinner on--Saturday. I'll make you a nice reservation somewhere fancy. Tell them you want to introduce them to someone special and you have big news so that they'll guess. Then, after you've had a bunch of wine, you can give tell them about the wedding date personally, and say you've been holding back the invites since you wanted to talk to them in person."

"What about my brother," said Damen.

"You have a brother?" Ancel said. "That's going to ruin the seating arrangement."

"Should I invite him to dinner?"

"Is he attractive?" said Ancel.

"I don't know," said Damen. "Also I think he's still dating my ex."

"Oh this is juicy," said Ancel.

"I don't know if Auguste is free on Saturday," said Damen.

"Honey, I can take care of that," said Ancel.

Damen followed Ancel's instructions and called his parents and asked if they could go out to dinner with him because he wanted to introduce them to someone special to him and they had big news.

"Of course," said Hypermenestra, Damen's stepmother. "Is it a man or a woman?"

"Man," Damen said, and Hypermenestra said she and his father looked forward to meeting him. "Kastor can come too," Damen said.

"I'll ask him," said Hypermenestra, and so at least that part was easy enough.

Auguste was ready to go when Damen went to his place to meet up, and he was dressed nicely in one of his work sweaters and fancy pants. He criticized Damen’s tie and redid it, and then their uber arrived. It felt odd to be going out without Laurent. It felt odd to be going to meet his parents. Damen’s hands were sweating. He rubbed them against his thighs. Should he be holding hands with Auguste, he wondered? Maybe they should have talked about how to act. 

They arrived at the restaurant and Auguste was looking at his phone. Damen felt like Auguste was shockingly relaxed about all of this until he realized that Ancel had made Auguste some kind of cheat sheet in the appointment for dinner and Auguste was studying it.

“How do you pronounce your mother’s name?” said Auguste.

“Stepmother,” Damen said. “Hypermenestra. Do you want my father’s name?”

“I only plan to call your father ‘Sir’,” said Auguste. 

“Do you have any family I have to meet?” said Damen.

“You’ve already met Laurent,” said Auguste, looking amused. 

“Maybe we should have eloped,” said Damen.

“Ancel would murder me,” said Auguste, and then they were at the restaurant door, and introductions began. 

Kastor arrived ten minutes late, which was not especially surprising to Damen or his parents, but he brought Jokaste, which was a surprise to everyone. The waiter brought a sixth chair to the table, Auguste and Damen eyed each other nervously, Jokaste politely pretended she hadn’t met Auguste before, and everyone sat down. The waiter asked if they would like wine. 

“Yes,” Auguste said, too quickly.

Everyone else placed their orders around the table as well, until Jokaste said, “None for me, thanks.” 

Kastor turned toward Theomedes and Hypermenestra and took Jokaste’s hand. “We’re pregnant,” he said proudly.

“What?” said Damen, horrified. Kastor shot him a dirty look, and then looked back at his parents, who were fussing appropriately.

Damen turned his horrified look to Auguste, who looked like he was doing math in his head. 

The congratulations died down, and Jokaste accepted them gracefully.

Wine arrived at the table. 

Damen was very tempted to drink heavily. 

“Damen, dear,” said Hypermenestra. “Did you arrange all of this just for us to hear Jokaste’s news?”

“No,” said Damen. “No, I wanted you to meet Auguste.”

Hypermenestra smiled politely. “It’s so nice to meet him.”

“Damen and I are getting married,” said Auguste. 

“To who?” said Kastor.

“To each other,” said Damen. Auguste took Damen’s hand where it was resting on the table and held it.

Jokaste looked considering. “Damen, I didn’t know you were gay,” she said.

“I’m bi,” Damen said automatically.

“I always thought you’d come to your senses and end up with a woman,” said Damen’s father. 

“That’s--a horrible thing to say,” Damen managed.

“We really hope you can make it to our wedding,” said Auguste. He was much better at lying than Damen was. Damen should just stop talking and let Auguste handle it. 

“Of course,” said Hypermenestra. “When is it?”

Auguste told his family all about the details.

“So soon,” said Theomedes, frowning.

“And Auguste, we’ve only just had the opportunity to meet you,” said Hypermenestra. “What about your family, can we meet them?”

“I have a sister,” said Auguste. “I’m sure she’d be delighted.”

“Oh, what does she do,” said Hypermenestra. 

“She’s in high school,” said Auguste, signalling the waiter to refill his wine glass. 

“Oh, I think I met her once,” said Jokaste. “Charming girl.”

Damen exchanged his empty glass for a full one as well. It was going to be a long evening. 

Damen drank enough wine that he hugged his parents at the end of the evening, and Auguste politely shook their hands, and then he leaned against Auguste’s side while they waited for their ride.

In the car, Auguste said, “Oh my god,” and Damen burst out laughing.

“She’s pregnant!” Damen said.

“Your father actually told me he wished I was a woman!”

“Kastor spit in my wine glass.”

“I think your stepmother has had a boob job.”

Damen laughed semi-hysterically. “You can still back out,” he offered. “You don’t have to marry me.”

“Jesus, and I felt sort of bad for myself that I didn’t have any family,” Auguste said. “How far along is Jokaste, do you think? You were sleeping with her before that--”

“I am way too drunk to think about that,” said Damen.

“Let’s not think about it,” Auguste agreed, and then they were at his place anyway.

After his parents, telling his friends about the wedding was much easier. Most of them had become convinced he and Auguste were dating, anyway, despite Damen’s denials and Auguste’s periodic insistance than he wasn’t gay. 

Damen first met Ancel in the events running up to the wedding, and he took in Ancel’s long red hair, eyeliner-framed eyes, and jewelry, and thought that Ancel was exactly as he had imagined. Maybe taller. Then he was introduced to Berenger, Ancel’s husband, who was wearing a completely normal brown suit and had a completely normal haircut, and Damen thought that Berenger was absolutely nothing like he had imagined from talking to Ancel. But Ancel and Berenger each looked at the other with a besotted kind of gaze, so they seemed well suited and happy. 

On the day of the wedding, Damen spent most of his time being lectured by Ancel on how there was something wrong with his tux. He’d become wider in the shoulders in the last two weeks or something and it didn’t fit right. It looked fine to Damen and he didn’t know what to do about it even if Ancel was right. He kept repeating his vows to himself; he didn’t want to mess them up in front of the entire audience.

They made it through the ceremony and to the reception. The wedding cake was amazing. The sponge was lemon and lavender and the cake had a mirror glaze and Damen accepted all of the compliments about it smugly. Laurent ate four slices. 

Damen had picked Nikandros as his best man because his half-brother was still dating his ex-girlfriend, and Nikandros’s best man speech was an elaborate story of he had _known_ , ever since Damen had first mentioned meeting this guy Auguste at his gym, that they were totally into each other, and Nikandros had been so onto them even when they had been in denial about it forever and basically concluded that he was right, he was always right, but no one ever listened to him.

Everyone was nodding along like it was very obvious, and next to him Damen could feel Auguste resisting the urge to object and drinking more champagne instead.

After Nikandros, Laurent stood up to give a speech. 

“Oh god,” said Auguste. She was holding a champagne flute. Who had given her champagne, there was no way that this would go well. Auguste shot Damen a panicked look.

But it was the sweetest speech ever. Laurent talked about how Auguste was the bestest possible brother and she loved him so much and he had done everything for her and now he met Damen and she loved Damen too. Damen was so nice and he made delicious cupcakes and she was so happy that the two of them were getting married.

Damen felt confident that at least ninety-five percent of the speech was an act, and that Laurent was neither half as sweet nor as drunk as she appeared, but by the end of the speech she was crying about how happy she was, he was crying too, and next to him Auguste was even crying a little bit, and then Laurent came over and hugged them and Damen felt genuinely that this might be the happiest he’d ever been.

People kept making them kiss at the wedding reception by tapping their spoons against their glasses, which Damen and Auguste indulged with good humor, though halfway through the evening Auguste said to Damen, “You were right, we should have eloped,” and then by the end of the evening they had both had enough champagne that one of the kisses turned a bit long, and might have actually turned into making out in front of the amused assembled guests.

There was dancing. Damen felt his heart bursting with joy watching Auguste dance with Laurent, her fancy dress twirling around them, and then he got to dance with Laurent, and she smiled at him gleefully when he lifted her up, and then he got to dance with Auguste, and Auguste smiled at him also, and so naturally Damen wanted to kiss him again, and he could, because why not, Auguste was his husband now, they had signed all of the papers and were wearing rings now and everything. And then they both danced with Laurent in a circle of the three of them, and everyone just thought it was cute because Laurent was Auguste’s adorable little sister.

Damen loved getting married, he decided later, because he got to throw a giant party with all of his family and friends, and then be happy with his favorite people, and a photographer went around and took pictures of all of them looking amazing and being happy, so later he got to save dozens of his favorite photos of them eating cake or hugging Laurent after her speech or twirling with each other out on the dance floor.

Their friends were having fun as well. One of Auguste’s coworkers was hitting on Damen’s bakery coworker Pallas, and Damen and Auguste placed bets on whether Lazar and Pallas would leave together. Damen’s relation--he wasn’t sure how they were related, exactly, but he had always called him uncle--Makedon showed up with some of his homemade liquor, and offered some to everyone. Jokaste declined, because she was still pregnant and wearing a dress that seemed to make that even more obvious. Laurent accepted, and Makedon poured her some before Damen or Auguste could object, and Laurent coughed it down and Makedon clapped her on the back and claimed she was a fierce one, and somehow the two of them became fast friends.


	12. The Wedding Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Laurent has ideas of how Damen and Auguste should celebrate getting married, and becomes drunk on champagne.

It was actually early the next morning by the time their guests had mostly gone home or retreated to their rooms in the hotel and Damen and Auguste were able to retire to their suite. 

The hotel suite was ridiculous just like everything in Auguste’s life, Damen observed. Ancel had mentioned something at one point about how much something related to the wedding had cost, and Damen had flipped out, and that had led to a similarly ridiculous fight with Auguste where Auguste didn’t understand why Damen was even angry.

“I don’t understand what you want,” Auguste said finally. 

“I want us to not spend hundreds of dollars on ridiculous folded napkins,” said Damen.

“Fine!” said Auguste. “I don’t care about the napkins.”

“You told Ancel they were fine and he won’t get rid of them because he says we already placed the order!”

“I didn’t know you didn’t like them! We can get something else. Why are we fighting about napkins?”

“It’s not that I don’t like them,” said Damen. “It’s that it’s ridiculous to spend that much money on something so stupid.”

Auguste still looked confused. None of their arguments about money seemed to work very well, and eventually Damen had deliberately stopped paying attention to how ridiculous Auguste was about money, and Auguste may have told Ancel to deliberately stop telling Damen how much anything ever cost, and at least they fought less that way.

So Damen had no idea how much their hotel suite had cost, but it was probably a figure that would start another fight between them, so he was trying not to think about it and instead to appreciate its nice features. There was an enormous bed made up all appealingly, and a giant hot tub that Damen looked at consideringly. He stepped over to the balcony, and the cooler air outside was a bit refreshing. They were three stories up, looking out over the gardens of the hotel, and the air smelled of flowers.

“Hi,” Damen heard, and he turned over to his right to see that Laurent was out on the balcony of the room next to him. 

He went over to the far right side of his balcony and Laurent came to the far left side of hers. They faced each other. “Hi,” he said.

“You’re married,” she said. 

Damen smiled and nodded.

Laurent put her hands on the balcony railing. “You know what that means you should be doing right now.”

Damen raised an eyebrow at her.

“Fucking your husband,” Laurent said. 

Damen laughed. “I’ll get right on that.”

Laurent cast a glance around, where all of the other balcony doors were closed and no one was down in the garden, and then she said, “I’m coming over.”

Damen thought she meant by going back into her room and then sneaking through the hallway. He took a step back, thinking maybe she would need him to open the door and let her in.

But instead, Laurent swung one of her legs over the balcony railing. 

“Oh my god,” said Damen. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to jump,” said Laurent.

“Can you jump that far?”

Laurent looked at the distance between his balcony and hers and the drop to the garden below. “Probably,” she said. 

“Probably,” he echoed, opening his mouth to tell her this was an absolutely stupid thing to do and she should by no means do it, but then she had jumped.

It was terrifying. Damen might have screamed except he was too frightened. She made it to his balcony, clutching at the railing, and then he grabbed at her and helped pull her over his railing until she was safe.

He wasn’t willing to let go of her yet and kept a tight grip, telling her that she should never frighten him like that again.

“It was fun,” she said. 

He took her inside, closing the door to the balcony. Auguste had stripped out of his jacket and tie and was starting to fill the hot tub and pouring more champagne into glasses.

“Your sister is insane,” Damen told him.

Auguste looked up and saw Laurent. “How did you get over here?”

Laurent held out her hand for a champagne glass. “I want some.”

Auguste considered this for a moment, and then poured a third glass and handed it to her.

Damen started taking off his clothes, thinking that the hot tub seemed inviting, and Auguste was doing the same, and tying his hair on the top of his head.

Laurent was sitting next to the tub. “Auguste,” she said. “Has Damen ever fucked you?”

Auguste sipped his champagne, seeming amused. “No.”

“Don’t you think he should do that tonight, since it’s your wedding night?” said Laurent.

“I think we can do whatever we want on our wedding night,” said Auguste.

“But I want you to do that,” said Laurent. “I want to see it.”

“You didn’t get married,” said Auguste. “Does what you want really count?”

There was some further debate between the two of them. 

Damen was looking at a stack of gifts in the corner of the room. “What’s this?”

Auguste glanced over. “Oh, I think those are the gifts from the bachelor party.”

Their friends had mostly taken the opportunity to give them the most ridiculous sex toys imaginable and get them astoundingly drunk and then tried to convince each of them to say embarrassing things about the other. 

It hadn’t worked too well. Auguste’s worst confession was that he didn’t actually like Damen’s macaroons, which he had said with wide eyes and such a horrified expression that Damen hadn’t even felt offended and just laughed. Damen couldn’t think of anything he didn’t like about Auguste, even when Nikandros was prompting him with ideas. “What about how he works too much and is insane about cleaning things?” 

“That’s not bad,” Damen had said, and Nikandros had disgustingly pronounced them perfect for each other.

“Hey,” Auguste said, pointing at the gifts. “Can you throw the giant green one over here? I want to show it to Laurent.”

Damen tossed the ridiculous ‘monster dong’ dildo across the room to Auguste, finished stripping, and joined the other two in the hot tub. He relaxed into the water next to Auguste.

“Ding ding ding,” said Laurent, tapping her finger against her champagne glass. “I want to see you kiss.”

“Spoiled--” whatever else Auguste was going to say was lost because he leaned in agreeably to meet Damen’s lips.

Damen stayed close to him after they kissed, pressing their foreheads together. “I can’t believe we actually got married,” he said.

“I didn’t think I’d ever actually get married,” said Auguste, with what seemed to Damen an unusual moment of raw honesty.

“Now you should fuck,” Laurent proclaimed.

“How much champagne have you had?” said Auguste to Laurent. 

Damen ignored her for a moment, and ran his hands down Auguste’s back, appreciating the musculature and warm skin. “Let me eat you out,” he said to Auguste.

Auguste raised an eyebrow. “How much champagne have you had?”

“You know I like it,” said Damen. “Let me.”

“I’ll supervise,” said Laurent. 

Auguste ended up bent over the side of the hot tub, kneeling on the bench that went around the edge of it and resting his chest on a stack of white fluffy towels. Damen stood in the middle of the tub to lean in.

“I can’t see,” said Laurent.

“Go get in the tub next to Damen, honey,” said Auguste.

Laurent pulled her fancy dress off over her head, which produced the somewhat shocking revelation that she was wearing absolutely nothing under it, no bra or panties or anything, but then she climbed into the pool next to Damen. “Okay, go.”

Damen laughed a little, and refused to be rushed. He used his hands on Auguste. He massaged Auguste’s lower back, where Auguste probably had just as much wedding tension as Damen himself, and then he massaged his buttocks, half trying to release tension and half appreciating the firm feel under his hands. He used his hands to part Auguste’s cheeks and he ran a finger down his center, feeling Auguste shiver, and then he leaned in to trace over the same area with his lips. 

Laurent leaned against Damen’s side and gave instructions. “Lick him again. Now from the bottom to the top. Now press your lips to his entrance. Do it again,” and Damen followed along, amused and enjoying the arch tone of her voice as she directed him. 

There were bottles of massage oil and bath salts and so forth all set out near to the tub, and Damen made Laurent hand him one of the bottles of oil, and he drizzled some along Auguste’s lower back and then repeated his massage of his lower back and buttocks, his hands moving even more smoothly over the oiled skin.

“I can see what you’re doing,” said Auguste, as Damen dipped an oiled finger through his crack.

“He’s going to fuck you,” said Laurent gleefully.

“Only if he wants to,” said Damen. 

“He does,” Laurent assured him.

“We know you do,” said Damen. 

“Yes,” said Laurent, leaning against his side again. “I want to see it, Damen, it will be so hot, seeing your cock go into his ass, I need to see that right now.”

Damen was not in any particular rush, despite what Laurent thought, and so he lingered with his fingers teasing at the outside of Auguste’s rim for a long time before he oiled them again and then pushed one inside.

Laurent was leaning over his shoulder to watch. “That’s good,” she said. “Give him another finger.”

“Let’s stick with one for a little while,” said Damen, and he kept at the slow insertion and withdrawal of one of his fingers before he switched to making a small circling motion inside Auguste with his finger.

Then, Laurent leaned in closer, and reached out her hand, and touched at Auguste’s rim where Damen’s finger was within him, and Damen watched, fascinated, and then she slid a slim finger in alongside where Damen’s finger was already inside.

Auguste craned his head over his shoulder. “Is she--”

“Yes,” said Damen.

Auguste swore, and Damen tried to move his finger in some sort of rhythm with what Laurent was doing, and then Laurent seemed to grow bored and removed her finger, and Damen slid in a second oiled finger of his own.

Auguste was uncharacteristically patient with this extended foreplay, when his ass was actually receiving the attention, and Laurent was characteristically impatient. “Give it to him, Damen.”

“I think we got a gag at the bachelor party,” said Auguste. “We should put that to use.”

“Yes, that would look very good on you,” said Laurent saucily.

“We’re going to put it on you,” said Auguste, but neither one of them made any attempt to get out of the tub and go find the toy.

Damen ignored the two of them bantering with each other and focused on Auguste. 

He had three fingers in Auguste, stretching him and massaging his prostate, when the banter between Laurent and Auguste culminated in Laurent making the pronouncement that Auguste was being a baby and didn’t know how to take a cock at all.

“I suppose you’re an expert,” said Auguste.

“I am,” said Laurent calmly, and then, she reached across the tub to where she and Auguste had left the giant green dildo after laughing at it earlier. Damen and Auguste watched her curiously.

It had a large base with a flat bottom, so Laurent set it on the tile outside of the hot tub, stood on the bench on the edge of the tub, and then sat down smoothly on top of it, sinking down until she was seated on the tile. 

“Jesus,” Auguste said. “Where does it go?”

“That was really big,” said Damen, impressed.

Laurent smiled smugly, and reached for one of the glasses of champagne sitting next to the tub. She had her head tipped slightly to the side, and her hair was messy and the ends were wet from the tub, and he could see the base of the giant green dildo peeking between her thighs. She sipped the champagne. “I win,” she said.

“Damen, I’m ready,” said Auguste, either because he had finally had enough foreplay or because Laurent had goaded him into it.

“Right,” Damen said, tearing his gaze away from Laurent and back to Auguste. He moved close to Auguste, preparing.

“Wait,” said Laurent. “I want to see.” She leaned over tipsily for a better view, and it was hilariously sort of visible when she realized, leaning over, that she was sitting on a giant cock, and sat up straight again with a kind of squished expression. 

Damen urged Auguste to move closer to her to please her desire for a clear view of his first penetration of Auguste. 

He went slowly, because Auguste was tight inside, and he massaged Auguste’s back gently as he pushed in. 

“Faster,” Laurent said.

“Gag her,” said Auguste.

Laurent laughed, and poured more champagne into her cup. Damen thrust, slowly and hesitantly at first, and then more powerfully. Auguste arched against the edge of the tub, moaning. 

After a few moments, Auguste had an idea, and was shifting them all around to change positions. Damen sat down on the bench in the hot tub, and Auguste sat on his lap, taking Damen’s cock back inside of him slowly and then rocking slowly in the water. “Come here,” Auguste said to Laurent, who was finishing another glass of champagne. “You might as well be useful.”

Watching Laurent raise herself off of the giant green cock was almost as interesting as having watched it go inside her in the first place, and she splashed willingly enough back into the tub and spread her legs over Auguste’s waist instead, sitting down on his cock with a squeak. 

“It’s not as big,” she objected, and Auguste muttered something about how he really was going to gag her after all, but Damen was lost in the motion.

Auguste was rocking slowly back and forth between them, down onto Damen’s cock and then up into Laurent, and the water was warm and splashing on the sides of the tub, and Damen’s head felt almost as fizzy as the champagne they’d been drinking all night.

Laurent was talking to Auguste. “I like that you married Damen,” she was saying. “I like Damen fucking you. I like Damen fucking both of us, me through you. I’m feeling very happy about everything.”

“You are so drunk, honey,” Auguste said, grinding a bit against Damen. 

Laurent patted his face. “Auguste,” she said. “Auguste, your cock is in me.”

Auguste just grunted. 

“Auguste, I think I have to pee,” said Laurent. 

“You’re a disaster,” said Auguste.

Damen thrust up a bit and Laurent bounced on top of Auguste, making a surprised noise.

Damen lost track of what was happening in his final thrusts toward orgasm, pulsing warmly inside Auguste. When he was able to focus again, Auguste was sitting on his lap still even though his softening cock had escaped, and in Auguste’s lap Laurent was a bit teary as Auguste was lowering and raising her waist.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Damen said.

Laurent hiccuped. “I’m too happy.”

“She’s a drunk disaster,” said Auguste, arching a little bit, and then Damen was able to watch his face contort as he found his own release.

Auguste hustled all three of them into the shower to rinse off before the were allowed to collapse into the bed, and by the time they were in bed Damen thought it was good they weren’t leaving the next day for a traditional honeymoon because he wanted to sleep for at least a day. 

“Did you like being fucked, Auguste?” Laurent said sleepily, curling up in her usual position on Damen’s chest.

“I did,” said Auguste, sounding somewhat surprised by the confession. 

“I knew you would,” said Laurent. “But you can’t have him all to yourself, I still want to be fucked too.”

“I married him,” Auguste said. 

“He fucked me first,” said Laurent.

“I met him first,” said Auguste. “I kissed him first.”

“I don’t care, I’m still keeping him,” said Laurent, and Damen fell asleep with one hand on Auguste’s shoulder next to him, one arm loosely curled on Laurent on top of him, and a smile on his face.


	13. Bondage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Damen experiences married life, Auguste takes a shibari class, and some pornography is watched.

Being married meant that Damen moved in officially with Auguste and Laurent, which wasn’t really that different from what had been going on prior except he moved some of his kitchen things from the place had used to split with Nikandros to Auguste’s stainless steel monstrosity. Auguste had half of his cupboards actually empty, Damen discovered, since he didn’t cook and his kitchen was insanely large for a city apartment.

Damen met all of Auguste’s neighbors, and shared with them various of his day-old baked goods. 

Laurent liked that they were married, and she liked that Damen was living with them. She fingered their rings a great deal, tracing around the gold with her fingers, moving Damen’s ring up and down his finger a little bit absently. 

Damen wore his ring almost all of the time. It was simple, just a band, and he sometimes forgot it was there. If he took it off when he was cooking something complicated or doing dishes or something and then he forgot to take it off, he noticed Auguste would eye him kind of particularly until he put it back on. 

Which was interesting, because Auguste rarely wore his ring at all. It was fancier than Damen’s, heavier, with jewels, and then Auguste often kept it in a small box in their bedroom, taking it out when he was going to see Damen’s parents or trying to make a particular point.

Damen spent an enjoyable afternoon cooking with Laurent in Auguste’s kitchen, with a particularly enjoyable interlude where he lifted her up on the counter and spread her legs and went down on her. He ended up with a flour handprint on his shoulder and flour in his hair, and Auguste was horrified at how unsanitary it was that they had had sex in the kitchen, so Damen had to shower and clean the kitchen afterward, but it had been worth it.

Auguste’s fascination with cleanliness was not limited to the kitchen. He got twitchy if people took things out and didn’t put them away afterward. He sometimes compulsively cleaned the bathroom. He was obsessed with changing the sheets in the bedroom, and with wiping down any other surfaces they happened to have sex on. He was intensely picky about his own appearance, spending what Damen thought were ridiculous amounts of time checking his hair and skin and clothing, and he applied the same finickiness to Laurent’s appearance. If he didn’t like what Laurent was wearing, he would send her back to change, or to part her hair more evenly, or to tweeze her eyebrows better--or one time he did that himself. Laurent rarely wore makeup, but if she did, Auguste had opinions about what shades were used and how it was applied. And in particular, Auguste had a very strong focus on Laurent’s body hair. 

Damen had seen him shave Laurent often, relaxing together in the bath. Consequently, for as long as he had known her, Laurent was always hairless. 

Then, Auguste left on a two week trip for work, and by the time Auguste returned, Laurent was sporting a much more natural look with her body hair. 

Damen didn’t mind it. He found the stage where Laurent had just a bit of stubble coming in fascinating because of the way it made her almost itchy for someone to touch her and it played into his ever-present desire to go down on her. When she had a bit more hair, it was different as well. He supposed he missed the view of her slowly opening up that he had when he went down on her when she was clean, but he supported whatever kind of choices she wanted to make with her body. After all, he wasn’t about to let Auguste shave off his hair.

Damen had kind of suspected that Auguste would have more to say about Laurent’s new fashion when he came home than Damen had had as she was growing it out, but he was admittedly a little surprised by the strength of Auguste’s reaction when he made a horrified face and threw her into a fireman’s carry over his shoulder and hauled her off to the bathroom. 

Laurent was upside-down and laughing, clutching at his middle, and Damen followed along behind, smiling at their antics. 

In the bathroom, instead of starting the bath, Auguste spread a towel on the floor and set Laurent down on it. She looked on curiously as he took out a box of different materials from his usual set of razors. He had strips of cloth and blocks of wax and a thing that looked to Damen like a tiny hot pot for dip, and Auguste started warming the wax in the tiny pot.

“Damen, how do you tolerate this?” said Auguste, gesturing to Laurent.

“Is that wax?” said Laurent, looking over. 

Auguste nodded. 

“Does it take the hair off?” said Laurent. 

“Yes,” said Auguste. 

“Have you ever done it?”

“Yes,” said Auguste. 

“What’s it like?” said Laurent.

“It hurts,” said Auguste, which didn’t seem to deter Laurent’s curiosity at all about the whole procedure, and she spread her legs willingly enough over Auguste’s lap when he pronounced the melted wax ready.

Damen was recruited to help hold her upper body and she rested back against him a little, though she was still curled up, craning to watch what Auguste was doing.

Auguste used a tiny wooden paddle to spread the warm wax on Laurent’s inner thigh. 

“It’s warm,” she said, watching as he spread about a section of wax about the size of two fingers and then pressed a strip of cloth against the waxed area firmly. “That tickles,” she said.

Auguste ignored her, pressing down on the strip. Then, apparently deciding that the wax was firm enough, he gripped the bottom of the cloth strip firmly, and tore the strip away quickly. 

Laurent screamed. Damen was so shocked by her scream that he clapped a hand over her mouth instinctively. She stopped, but he could feel short warm breaths coming against his hand. 

Auguste was spreading a second section of wax on another section of Laurent’s inner thigh. Damen and Laurent watched as Auguste pressed a cloth down against the second section of wax. Damen could feel Laurent tensing up as Auguste reached for the end of the second strip of fabric, and this time, as he quickly tore the wax and hair away, she only whimpered. 

Damen had dated a waxing technician once briefly, but he had had no idea what the process was really like and was now rethinking everything he had ever thought about that woman.

Damen lowered his hand away from Laurent’s mouth and she clutched at his forearm.

Auguste looked up at her. Her back was to his front, but Damen could see her face a little in one of the bathroom mirrors. Her eyes were wide and watery. 

“Look at this,” said Auguste, rubbing his fingers over the section of newly revealed hairless skin. “Feel how soft that is. I’m going to make you like that all over.”

Laurent whimpered again. 

Auguste worked slowly from the outer part of her thigh--where the hair was so fine and blonde it didn’t really count anyway--inward. He applied small sections of wax, the size of one or maybe two of his fingers, and he tore them off quickly, and then he pressed his fingers over the revealed skin, testing if the hair was gone and appreciating the softness. 

Laurent seemed to have been stunned into silence, and watched quietly as Auguste worked inward, tensing and clutching Damen’s arm as Auguste grasped one of the strips, and then relaxing a little when it came off.

After her left inner thigh was done, Auguste gave the clean skin a bit more attention with his hands, and then leaned in and trailed over it with his lips. Laurent hissed. “Yes,” she said. “Go down on me.”

Auguste raised his head, frowning. “You are half covered in hair,” he said, as though that were an obvious preventive reason, though he did run a finger down her center. “You’re wet. You like this.”

Laurent was clutching at Damen’s arm still. She didn’t say anything.

Auguste moved his little wax dip bowl and then began applying wax to Laurent’s other inner thigh. It was the same pattern. He applied sections of wax with the little wooden paddle, spreading it on her skin in a motion that sort of reminded Damen of applying frosting to a cake. Then, he pressed the cloth down against the wax firmly, and when he had decided the cloth was firmly adhered to the skin, he tore it up and away.

In his arms, Laurent was having the same reactions she had when Damen started teasing her very slowly with his fingers or his mouth or a toy. She tensed a little or hitched a little in her breath at the feel of the wax, and at the firm press of Auguste’s fingers all over her as he applied the cloth or brushed her in a bit of a tease. Her muscles quivered as she anticipated the tear of the strips, and then she relaxed a little bit more in Damen’s embrace after each section was removed. She loved Auguste running his hands over the smooth skin afterward, Damen could tell, though she wasn’t saying anything.

Auguste would have never had this kind of patience for extended foreplay, but Laurent seemed to be appreciating that she had accidentally found a way to hoard her brother’s attention and have his hands all over her.

Auguste continued with thin stripes across her mound, and then one that trailed up her lower stomach, following the line of hair to her belly button. That one made her gasp. 

Auguste lingered with his fingers on her mound. “I can stroke either direction and there’s no hair,” he said, sounding proud.

“Are you done now?” said Laurent, a note of tension in her voice.

“Don’t be silly,” said Auguste. “You’re still covered in hair.”

He was even more precise and attentive to removing the hair from her labia. He shifted her around until she was all bent like a pretzel so he could have better access, and then he had his fingers all over her, carefully applying the wax and pressing firmly against the skin. 

It seemed to Damen that it took almost as much time to do the tiny section of skin between her legs as it had all of the other skin Auguste had revealed, but Auguste and Laurent both seemed so fascinated with the process that he didn’t say anything.

When Auguste waxed very close to her clit to get the last of the hair on the labia off, Laurent made a moaning noise and twitched a little in a way that Damen thought might be her having a small orgasm. 

Auguste inspected his work with his lips again after he was finished, licking lightly over her clit. 

“Please,” Laurent said, letting go of Damen’s arm to clutch Auguste’s hair. “Please.”

Auguste raised himself up. “We’re not done.”

“All the hair is gone,” said Laurent, though she couldn’t manage a very authoritative tone. “Go down on me.”

“Damen, flip her over,” said Auguste.

Laurent whimpered, either at the idea that there was more waxing to come or because no one was getting her off yet, or both, but she didn’t resist, and the two of them managed to get her flipped onto her stomach with her ass up high in the air. Auguste instructed Damen to help hold her cheeks separated. 

Laurent’s head was resting against his thigh, and was remarkably close to his cock, and Damen instructed his cock firmly that Laurent was not going to be using her mouth on him and he should just stop thinking about it. 

He focused instead on the winking of Laurent’s hole as Auguste applied wax around it and cleared the skin on her ass of hair as well. Laurent’s gasping breath was warm on his leg as Auguste worked methodically. Damen told himself this was not arousing but it wasn’t really working.

Auguste removed a final strip of cloth and Damen couldn’t see any remaining hair. Auguste still seemed to be performing an inspection, carefully feeling every portion of Laurent’s skin and trailing his fingertips over it in multiple directions.

He repeated the inspection with his lips, trailing his mouth over Laurent’s pink clean skin, and after the inspection seemed to have been completed to his satisfaction, he kept his mouth close, breathing on her hole. 

“Please,” Laurent said again, and Damen could see Auguste’s tongue flick out.

He had never seen Auguste rim Laurent before. He didn’t know if it had happened and he just had never witnessed it, or if this was a first between the two of them, but it was certainly a rare and unusual occurrence. 

After a time, Auguste got Damen to help him flip Laurent back over again, and then he bent down a second time and actually went down on her the way she’d been begging. 

Damen had a lovely view. He liked Auguste’s serious attention on Laurent and he liked Laurent going to pieces in in his lap, her hair messily spread everywhere and her eyes wide and her mouth open. 

That evening, they were relaxing and watching television. They had formed a habit of watching some kind of porn. Auguste often picked. If Damen picked, then he usually liked lesbians. Laurent liked men and liked to hint pointedly about how hot it would be if Damen and Auguste acted out whatever they were watching. Auguste’s tastes were more varied, which was interesting, and he also tended to pick videos that featured both men and women, which they liked. He was, however, just as not-subtle as Laurent in blatantly picking things that he liked or wanted to try in bed.

They watched a series of videos about massage, which Damen found rewarding and enjoyable, both receiving and using the skills to turn Auguste or Laurent into a relaxed slump. Then Auguste was obviously using videos to share his latest fascination with bondage. They started with handcuffs. Auguste’s strange metal headboard started to make sense. Laurent liked riding Damen while he was cuffed to the top of the bed, and Damen enjoyed how he could go down on a cuffed Laurent for as long as he wanted without interruption. The fucked her once together, on their sides while she had her cuffed hands resting behind Damen’s head.

All three of them enjoyed being blindfolded, so they took turns with that, and Laurent in particular made a gorgeous picture with her hands cuffed above her head and her face half covered in black silk. Auguste teased her with a feather while she squirmed and laughed a little and Damen jerked off on her stomach which Auguste thought was outrageously filthy, as though Damen were somehow the kinky one in this scenario.

The bondage in the videos Auguste was finding became more elaborate. 

Auguste would never come right out and just say he wanted to try something from the videos, but a few days after they intently watched a video with a spreader bar Damen found one in their toy box when searching for more lube. 

Then, Auguste found a beautiful shibari video, which they all liked so much they watched it three times, but Damen was hoping that a bunch of rope didn’t just show up in the toy box because it seemed complicated.

It did not, but somehow, that was how Damen got recruited into taking shibari knot tying classes with Auguste. 

“I thought you wanted to tie Laurent up,” said Damen.

“I do,” said Auguste.

“So why do I have to go to the class?”

“Because I’m supposed to bring a partner and I think they’ll ask awkward questions if I bring my high school sister instead of my _husband_.”

First, Damen got enlisted to go with Auguste to the sex store to buy supplies. Damen insisted they go to his favorite woman-owned toy store that carried tasteful toys and respected female sexuality. Auguste rolled his eyes but let Damen drive there.

Once they arrived, Auguste very carefully inspected all of the products and Damen texted with Laurent. Laurent was kind of pouting about the fact that they were picking stuff for her but she wasn’t allowed to come along.

Damen: how soft of rope do you like

Auguste was telling him he was ridiculous. “She’s never been tied up, what does she know, we’re going to choose for her. That’s the point.”

Damen: sorry Auguste is distracted now looking at plugs  
Laurent: for him or for you  
Damen: for you :wink:

Damen showed this last comment from Laurent to Auguste, which caused Auguste to frown and look at the shelf again, and gravitate to a slightly larger plug.

Damen wasn’t certain exactly what to expect from knot tying classes.

Laurent went to some kind of fancy prep school and she was good at it, and she got As in all of her classes. Damen assumed that Auguste had been the same. Damen had never liked school, even culinary school had been stressful, and he got kind of a sinking feeling in his stomach at the thought of being graded. Going to sex classes seemed like the opposite of fun, but he allowed Auguste to drag him along and tried to pay attention as best he could.

It wasn’t like school, though. They called it a class but it was really five couples trying to tie knots in rope and the instructor walking around to help them. Since they were working in pairs, Damen got to let Auguste do all the talking, which worked out well because Auguste was the one who wanted to learn about how to tie people up anyway, and also he was much better at talking than Damen was. 

The instructor’s name was Estienne. He had a row of earrings in each ear and seemed to especially like helping Damen and Auguste. Some of the pairs had only one person learning the knots and the other just serving as the model, but Estienne suggested that both of them practice the knots. “In case you want to switch.”

In the first class they learned a pretty way to tie someone’s wrists, and Auguste did it on Damen first and then Damen repeated it on Auguste, and then they went home and argued about how it was supposed to go while doing it together on Laurent. That wasn’t entirely successful, because Laurent tugged on the ropes and they sort of fell off all over the bed and she was free, but they had sex anyway so Damen didn’t worry too much about it.

The next class was about the difference between natural and synthetic ropes. Estienne stood really close to Damen’s shoulder and coached him on how to just “Feel the rope, Damen.”

Damen agreed that the ropes had very different characteristics. 

Estienne’s hand was on his bicep. “Sometimes a natural fiber is what you want,” he said, sensuously. “But sometimes a synthetic is better.”

Damen nodded.

Next to Damen, Auguste was frowning at Estienne. Damen wondered if he had a question about the different types of rope. He looked at the rope samples that Auguste was holding and noticed that Auguste was wearing his wedding ring, which was unusual.

In the third class, Auguste made Damen sit on the inside seat and sat himself on the aisle, which seemed to only result in Estienne leaning over Auguste a lot to show Damen things. After a particularly complicated tie, Damen smiled helplessly at Estienne.

“Try it again,” Estienne said.

“It’s okay,” said Damen. “This is more Auguste’s thing than mine anyway.”

Auguste was tightlipped next to him despite having a perfect knot in his ropes.

After their fifth class, they managed to more successfully tie up Laurent, but Auguste still ranted at their house about how they needed a new teacher.

“Oh,” said Damen. “But Estienne is so nice.”

“He’s hitting on you, Damen,” Auguste said.

Damen thought back. 

“Did you learn how to untie me?” said Laurent.

“He’s just nice,” said Damen.

“He’s desperate to fuck you,” said Auguste. “He wants to truss you up like a turkey and do god knows what with synthetic rope.”

Damen was picturing Estienne tying him up, now. 

“Speaking of being trussed up,” said Laurent, wiggling a little.

During their sixth class, Damen tried to pay more attention to how to undo the knots after they tied them. Auguste continued to glare possessively at Estienne. 

Laurent was doing something with her friends when they came home from the sixth class, but the possessive tension vibrating through Auguste resulted in Damen being fucked hard against the wall, so he was hardly complaining. 

After a few more classes, they had advanced onto suspension. 

“Where are we even going to suspend from?” Damen whispered to Auguste. There was a lot of discussion of ensuring that your rigging was structurally secure. “Especially if your bottom is large,” said Estienne, standing pointedly next to Damen.

“I have hooks already.”

“Did you plan this?” said Damen. “Where?”

“I have TRX hooks in the workout room,” said Auguste, and as Damen thought about it he realized he knew that.


	14. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we temporarily interrupt the bondage action to hear some backstory on how Damen and Hot Blond Guy first met.

He and Auguste had first met over that workout room, sort of. Well, they had first met because they went to the same gym. Damen had been working out there for a while and observed the people who tended to work out around the same time he did, and who tended to be as serious about bodybuilding as he was, and he had spotted Auguste--who at the time he had called Hot Blond Guy in his head--fairly regularly.

At first they had just nodded at each other in passing, a polite recognition without trying to interrupt the fact that they were both clearly serious about getting their workouts in. 

Then one time, Damen had needed a spotter for a lift he wanted to try, and Hot Blond Guy was there and didn’t seem too busy, so Damen had introduced himself, learned that Hot Blond Guy was named Auguste, and asked if he’d be willing to give him a hand.

Auguste seemed to take that one request for help as a sign that they were friends, and he proceeded to help Damen with his lift, offer some unsolicited advice on one of Damen’s other lifts, greet Damen effusively when he next saw him at the gym, and chat a lot about everything and nothing.

Damen found Auguste’s sudden friendship a little bit amusing, but he liked the guy, and he was still trying to resolve the bet going in his own head about whether Auguste was gay and if so was he hitting on Damen, so he played along agreeably.

There were arguments on either side. Auguste didn’t wear a ring and didn’t mention any relationships in his life, past or present, which gave Damen very few clues. His eyes didn’t follow any of the other men who worked out, but he also sometimes stood too close to Damen in the locker room.

Damen would have been convinced that Auguste was gay and into him, but then, why weren’t they fucking already? He told himself not to sweat it.

One time, when they were working out, Auguste had said, “I actually have some gym equipment at my apartment.”

“Oh yeah?”

“You should come over some time,” Auguste had said, which Damen had been convinced was a line, but he had still been one hundred percent on board.

When he’d made it to Auguste’s place--this had been before Laurent had moved in--he had been surprised by how fancy it was, but also by the fact that Auguste did, in fact, have a set of fairly nice gym equipment in a mat-covered room. And Auguste seemed totally serious about the two of them actually working out there together. 

Damen went ahead with his workout still half convinced that they were going to finish getting sweaty in Auguste’s bedroom, but he had more and more questions. Why was he always at the gym if he had such a nice setup at his place? When were they going to give up the pretense of working out and have sex?

But Damen had left, slightly disappointed, after they’d worked out. When Auguste had seemed happy to see him at the gym again a few days later, told himself that Auguste clearly wasn’t into him and he should stop reading things into it. Auguste had continued to invite Damen over to work out at his place occasionally, which Damen accepted because his setup was nice and Auguste was not unpleasant to look at even if he didn’t want to hook up with Damen. Working out turned at some point into going out for a drink, and eventually Damen introduced Auguste to some of his other friends, and met Jord and Orlant and some of the people that Auguste seemed to know from his work. 

Once they went out together, Auguste clearly was intent on his quest to pick up women, which at least gave insight into Damen’s longstanding mental question of whether Auguste was into him. One evening out at a bar, both Auguste and Damen had been flirting with the same woman for much of the night. She went to the restroom.

Auguste made a bet with Damen that he could take her home. 

“She’s more into me,” Damen had said.

Auguste shook his head. “You’re on.”

Both of them were pouring on the charm. At closing time, Auguste turned to the worman. “My friend and I have a bet about who gets to take you home, who wins?”

The woman had blinked. “Oh! I was thinking--both of you.”

Damen and Auguste had exchanged looks, then nodded. 

“So I win!” said the woman.

Damen had felt a little bit weird from the beginning, going out with Auguste, because Auguste always paid for drinks or food, and in sneaky ways where Damen didn’t even notice he’d settled the tab. It added to Damen’s confusion about whether Auguste was trying to date him. He had seen Auguste’s place, so obviously Auguste could afford it, but it still made Damen feel strange.


	15. Bondage 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The interlude of how Damen and Hot Blond Guy first met and began picking up women being concluded, we return to the bondage action.

“Why do we keep having to have sex in the gym?” said Laurent.

“Having to,” said Auguste. “You and Damen made out in the bed this morning.”

But Auguste’s obsession with bondage did mean that they spent an increasing amount of time in the gym, not working out, but using the TRX hooks to tie Laurent up. 

They tied Laurent’s hands behind her and then attached them to the ceiling, which left her gorgeous and exposed. Auguste seemed to like touching Laurent even more when she wasn’t able to do anything about it, and he caressed the exposed part of her arms around the ropes, lingered significantly on the curve of her neck, teased at her nipple, and then got out one of her vibrators to follow the same path. 

Damen watched her face as Auguste was teasing her. She had a braced expression before he would do something, and then an open-mouthed breath when he touched her, and sometimes she closed her mouth again, tossed her head back, and deliberately tried to suppress her noises and control herself.

Laurent was breathing heavily and saying “please” by the time Auguste finally slid the vibrator inside of her to press on her G-spot, and she arched her back and went up on her toes when she orgasmed, and then kind of collapsed heavy against the ropes afterward, until Damen supported her weight and Auguste freed her from the ceiling. 

They got more complicated the next time, taking advantage of Laurent’s flexibility, and tied her hands at the wrist behind her once again, but also arranging the rope around her torso tightly above her breasts, for support, and then raising her left leg up behind her and tying that to the same hook her hands were suspended from.

Auguste’s teasing was similar to the time before, as were Laurent’s attempts to control her reactions, but it was harder for her to balance, on one leg, even when Damen remembered Estienne’s instructions about minding your sub’s reactions and stepped closer to her and put a hand on her suspended thigh to steady her. 

Auguste lingered for a long time on his knees in front of her.

“That’s a good place for you,” said Laurent smugly, when he first got into the position.

“I’m going to wipe that smug expression off your face,” said Auguste calmly, and he did, patiently taking his time exploring her body with his hands, as though it were a toy for his pleasure and had nothing to do with her at all. 

He traced slowly along her suspended thigh, running the palm of his hand along the outside of it, and then trailing a single finger along the inside, the line between her knee and where her legs met.

He paid attention to her right leg also, which was supporting her, starting his attention there at her ankle and going upward, noting the ticklish spot that made her twist a little in the ropes.

When Auguste was finished with her legs, he teased her with his fingers, dipping two of them inside of her and then trailing her wetness in a streak along her own thigh, but refusing to touch her in a way that she found more satisfying. After he had teased her for a few minutes, he moved his fingers to her ass, and Damen watched her open her mouth and poke her tongue against her cheek as Auguste pushed his fingers inside inexorably.

Laurent complained again about too much sex in the gym, so the next time they tied her to a chair in the middle of the living room. Her armpits rested on the back of the top of the chair, her knees resting on the seat of the chair, and her arms were hanging down along the back and tied to the top of the back legs. Auguste trailed a hand along her back, pressing gently until she arched into a presenting position. “That’s a good look for you,” he said, touching her ass. “Damen can go first,” Auguste decided.

Damen took advantage of the position to touch Laurent gently, while Auguste ran a finger down her cheek--half affection, half disdain--and then objected to how Damen’s touch was making her arch into a cat position that wasn’t proper presentation.

She managed to hold the position relatively well while Damen was fucking her--he suspected it hit her g-spot particularly effectively. 

When Damen had finished, Auguste moved behind her. He fucked into her a couple of times, slicking his cock with her wet and Damen’s come, and then he used a move on her that Damen had seen him use before on other women, where he pulled out and then used his hand to position his cock head against her ass, and slowly pushed inside there.

Laurent moaned in response, and Auguste fucked her in the ass for a long time. 

“Get the toy,” he said to Damen, eventually, and Damen knew which one he meant, and he slid one of Laurent’s bullet vibrators inside of her while Auguste was fucking her from behind, and both Laurent and Auguste groaned at the increased pressure and the vibrating sensations. 

This left Damen holding the remote controlling the vibrator, so he adjusted the dial to make the vibrations more or less vigorous and observed the effect that this had on the other two.

Laurent tried arching like a cat again, in response to the vibrations and the sensation of Auguste fucking her, and Auguste placed one of his hands firmly on her lower back and pressed down. It wasn’t quite enough leverage, so he leaned over her and rested his forearm on her until she resumed the position that he wanted.

They went back into the gym to continue experimenting with suspension. They fucked in there frequently enough that some of Laurent’s toys and a container of lube had just been sitting out on the floor conveniently, but of course Auguste couldn’t stand that for very long, and soon there was a new cabinet in the gym, with sex things neatly stored away.

They tried more partial suspensions. Watching Auguste fuck Laurent from behind while she was bent forward with her torso supported by the ropes was gorgeous. Her legs were spread wide and her back arched beautifully and when Auguste fucked her hard she went up on her toes. 

They did a seated full suspension first, with Laurent cross-legged and holding onto the ropes, only a few inches from the floor as a practice, and there was a lot of laughing and then Damen pushed her in a tiny circle like she was a child on a tire swing.

“We could just put a toy beneath you,” said Auguste, “and lower you down.”

Estienne tried to offer some private practice sessions to Damen, which caused Auguste to plaster himself to Damen’s back and clasp his hands in front of Damen’s chest in a way that emphasized his wedding ring. 

Damen thought, since they were married, that sometimes he should indulge in public displays of affection with Auguste. He had done it at first as a deliberate exercise, touching Auguste’s arm or taking his hand or throwing an arm over his shoulder. Auguste had done it back, and something in his eyes had said he was humoring Damen as he did, but as weeks and months went by it felt less like a joke. 

Ancel and Berenger invited Damen and Auguste to dinner at their house, which was really more of an estate out in the country. Damen let Auguste dress him and do his tie and brought an elegant tart from the bakery as a gift.

“How are you liking married life, Damen?” said Berenger, and after Damen gave a polite answer to Berenger, he realized that he might be happier than he had ever been before.

Of course, that was when the drama started.


	16. The Baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is drama, and the parentage of Jokaste’s baby is disputed, Damen is punched by someone and Laurent wants to punch someone (though those last two aren’t related), they go on vacation, and Laurent explores pegging.

The drama started when Damen’s brother Kastor showed up at his work and punched him. Damen got a black eye, but the damage to the cake he fell on top of was really worse than the bruising on his face. The cake was absolutely ruined and he had to do another Genoise sponge and they almost ran out of eggs.

Laurent and Auguste fussed appropriately over his black eye but also wanted to know why Kastor had punched him, which wasn’t even clear to Damen until Jokaste texted him and wanted to meet up to talk.

Laurent was opposed. “She’s a bitch,” Laurent said. “Don’t go talk to her.”

“I can’t just not reply,” said Damen.

“Of course you can,” said Laurent.

“What if she’s in trouble?” said Damen.

“Have you forgotten about how she cheated on you?” said Laurent. “With your brother?”

Damen had not forgotten about that. He’d been kind of doing frantic math in his head ever since he’d learned that Jokaste was pregnant.

“Take Auguste with you,” said Laurent finally. “No, just send Auguste to talk to her himself. No, I’ll go,” said Laurent. Laurent looked menacing as she announced this, and Damen kind of pitied Jokaste if they did let Laurent at her.

Instead, Damen refused to even tell Laurent where he was meeting Jokaste, for fear she’d show up uninvited, but he did agree to take Auguste along with him.

Jokaste was enormous. Damen thought she might burst at any point. She eyed Auguste with the same kind of menace that Laurent had had earlier. “Why is he here?”

“You remember our wedding?” said Auguste, holding up his hand with the ring on it. “You were there.”

“You two aren’t really married. You have something going on,” said Jokaste. “I’ll figure it out eventually.”

“Why did you want to meet?” said Damen.

“It’s about the baby,” she said. 

She said it was Damen’s. 

“Do you have any evidence of that?” said Auguste. 

“You know we slept together,” she said to Auguste. “You were there at least once.”

“Say it is Damen’s,” said Auguste. “What do you want?”

She wanted money.

“I don’t have any money,” Damen said honestly.

“How much?” said Auguste.

Laurent was vibrating with righteous anger as they told her the story later. “So why did Kastor punch Damen?”” she said. “Even if it is his baby, Jokaste’s the one who cheated.”

“You can’t really punch a pregnant woman,” said Auguste.

“You can’t really punch anyone,” said Laurent. “Your form is terrible.”

Auguste rolled his eyes. “Yes, if anyone is going to punch anyone we’ll let you do it.”

Laurent sniffed haughtily.

Damen just kept repeating the sum of money Jokaste had asked for. It was enormous. “I’ve never had that much money,” he said. “What could a baby possibly do with it?”

Laurent and Auguste exchanged a look.

“What?” said Damen.

“I thought she’d ask for more, actually,” said Auguste.

“What are you going to do?” said Laurent. She had climbed into Damen’s lap, on the couch, but she was looking to Auguste for the plan.

“Call a lawyer,” said Auguste. “Or, get Ancel to do it.”

“What’s a lawyer going to do?” said Damen. Laurent plastered herself to his front comfortingly.

“I don’t know,” said Auguste. “What do you want, Damen?”

Both of the other two were looking at him. “I don’t know.”

“Do you want the baby? Like, custody of him?”

“I’m--not sure.”

“We should probably ask for a paternity test,” said Auguste. “Unless you want him regardless.”

Damen was still uncertain, and remained uncertain when Auguste dragged him to the appointment Ancel had made with a family lawyer.

Auguste was brutally honest with the lawyer, starting back when Damen and Jokaste had been dating and the three of them had hooked up (Damen hoped his blush wasn’t too obvious) all the way through to Jokaste’s recent text messages and Damen’s black eye.

“Do you have any other children?” said the lawyer, who was a wizened dark and silver haired woman with glasses. The name on her office door said “Halvik.”

“No,” said Damen.

“Technically yes,” said Auguste. Damen looked his direction. “You adopted Laurent when we got married, remember?”

Damen remembered Laurent had wanted that, because she had wondered what would happen to her if something happened to Auguste. Auguste had tried to tell her that nothing was going to happen to him, but she’d pointed out that their mother had died (of cancer, apparently) and their father had died (in a car accident) and that then their uncle was rotting away in prison, so it was only natural for her to be worried.

“Are you sure you want to adopt her?” Auguste had asked. “The position seems to be cursed.”

But Damen hadn’t completely registered that that had been one of the sets of paperwork they’d signed.

“She’s Auguste’s sister,” said Damen to Halvik, trying to explain.

“We’re both her guardians,” said Auguste. 

The lawyer made notes. “That’s very good, that might help your case. Are you positioned to care for another child?”

“No,” said Damen, feeling overwhelmed.

Auguste took his hand and squeezed it warningly. “What do you mean?” he was faking an amused smile.

“We don’t have any baby stuff,” said Damen, picturing it. They would need a crib and like, all of the other stuff that babies needed. He didn’t even know what it all was.

“We can buy stuff,” said Auguste, as though Damen were being silly, still laughing a little bit. “We would have to move,” he said. “It’s only a two bedroom place,” he told Halvik.

Auguste and the lawyer talked about the advantages and disadvantages of a paternity test for a few minutes while Damen pictured moving to another place. In his head he was picturing some sort of horrible ornate country estate like where Berenger and Ancel lived. They probably had eighteen different rooms to put baby stuff in, though Damen hadn’t seen all of them. 

Their lawyer told them to stop speaking directly with Jokaste and to leave the interactions to her, and then Halvik called them every few days with an update.

First, she said she’d spoken with the lab and that they could perform a DNA test to determine who was the father, even if the candidates were brothers. “It might require more extensive testing, but they can do it.”

“We’re only half-brothers,” said Damen, and she made a note.

Then, she called back to report that she’d spoken with Jokaste and that Jokaste and Kastor were back together and apparently now planning to get married.

Auguste had put her on speaker in the kitchen, but then he had his hand clapped over Laurent’s mouth next to him, probably to keep her from saying anything rude. “What does that mean?”

“About your family Christmas,” the lawyer said, “probably that it will be awkward. About your case, it will be harder if they get married. A woman’s husband is usually presumed to be a child’s father without dispute.”

Damen didn’t know what he wanted to do. He felt horrible, tangled and sick inside. It was completely different from how he had felt when Laurent had been scared she was pregnant. Damen had been terrified, but he had felt terrified for her. He had hoped that it was his. Now he secretly hoped that it wasn’t, and he felt angry with Jokaste for inflicting all of this on him.

Laurent and Auguste drew him off to bed to try to distract him. “Damen sandwich,” Laurent said decisively, and once Auguste was rocking into Damen and Damen was rocking slowly into Laurent, it was distracting, because there was no time to think of anything but the amazing way their bodies came together.

Jokaste had the baby. Damen wasn’t allowed to see him, but Laurent stalked his brother’s social media account and saved off a picture and they stared at it for a while.

“What would I do with a baby?” said Damen.

“Do you want kids, Damen?” said Laurent.

“I think so,” said Damen. “Someday? Do you?”

Laurent shook her head. “I have bad genes.”

Damen looked at her in surprise. “You’re amazing,” he said. “How could your genetics be anything but amazing?”

“Maybe you and Auguste can adopt,” Laurent said. 

That was strange to think about, strange in the same way that thinking about holding Jokaste’s baby was strange.

Damen was still uncertain what he wanted to do, and feeling stressed every time Auguste mentioned speaking to Halvik, when suddenly, Kastor showed up at the bakery again and punched him a second time. 

Damen managed not to fall into a cake this time, and also, to punch Kastor back, and then Damen’s bakery coworker Pallas called the police, but they settled down before the officers arrived and were just shouting at each other by that point.

“She’s gone! It’s your fault!” Kastor said.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Damen.

The police convinced Kastor to leave, and warned him to stay away from Damen’s bakery.

At home, Damen had a card sitting on the top of the pile of mail Laurent had sorted. She watched over his shoulder as he opened it.

_The child was never yours, but he is safe. In another life, he would have been a king._

_I remember the way you looked at me, the day we met._

_Perhaps that, too, in another life._

_Jokaste_

Laurent sniffed. “She’s very overdramatic.”

Laurent was the most dramatic person Damen knew, so that was rich. “Why would she just leave? I thought she was going to marry Kastor.”

Laurent didn’t meet his eyes. “Probably she came to her senses.”

“Laurent,” Damen said warningly, but she refused to say anything more.

But when he came home from work, Auguste confessed willingly. “I paid her.”

“To go away?”

Auguste nodded. “It’s what you wanted.”

“I didn’t know what I wanted,” said Damen, his voice rising. 

“You didn’t like that you wanted it,” Auguste corrected.

Damen sat down heavily on the couch, still holding the card. _Perhaps in another life._

“You wanted all of it to just go away,” said Auguste. “You want the child to be well but you don’t want to raise him, you didn’t want to see Jokaste at every family event from now until forever and wonder or feel bad or stressed--this is exactly what you wanted.”

Laurent sat next to him. “Don’t be mad, Damen. Auguste is right!”

“Did you know about this?” Damen asked her, and she glanced away.

“The two of you are kind of terrifying,” Damen said, still feeling sick. If this had been what he wanted, wouldn’t he feel better about having gotten it?

“But terrifying in a good way,” Laurent said, trying to crawl on top of him. Damen wasn’t cooperating, so Auguste sat down next to him and pulled her over onto his lap instead.

It was somehow too easy to forget.

Laurent had her birthday, and Damen made her an enormous cake. The school year ended and Auguste convinced Damen to take off two weeks from the bakery, which was almost unheard of. In private, Auguste called it a belated honeymoon, except they took Laurent along with them, so at the bakery Damen had to talk about it like a family vacation.

Auguste flew them to some resort halfway around the world, where they stayed in a fancy private hotel room that looked like their own straw hut but was steps away from the beach. There were hardly any people at the resort at all, and none that they knew. At dinner, the waiter looked at Laurent and then back at Auguste and said, “Your wife?”

“My husband,” Auguste said, nodding at Damen, “and our girlfriend.”

The waiter nodded knowingly, and brought their drinks.

Laurent had a tiny bikini that revealed so much of her skin that Damen was torn between telling her to put something else on and just taking it off of her entirely, and had to content himself with rubbing sunscreen all over her once an hour. She was very critical if he missed any spots. “I don’t want to burn!”

It was--freeing, not to lie or to pretend. Damen could wrestle with Auguste in the shallows and then kiss him and Laurent just leapt on Auguste’s back and clung there like a monkey and Damen leaned in to kiss her too, because why not.

Someone tried to flirt with Laurent at the restaurant bar, and before she had a chance to skewer them with something acid, Auguste just wrapped one arm around her and the other around Damen and said, “Did you get your drink, honey?”

The last night, Laurent said, “Auguste, let’s stay on vacation forever,” and Damen was tempted to agree, except he didn’t say anything, because Auguste might have actually made it happen.

When they returned, Damen had to cover a bunch of Pallas’s bakery shifts in repayment, and Auguste had to go mollify his client in France.

Laurent had nothing to do on her summer vacation but lounge around and watch porn, which meant she had all kinds of ideas, and one of the ideas was that she wanted to fuck Damen.

“You’ll need some equipment,” Damen told her, watching the video she had picked out as inspiration.

Laurent waved a hand. “I ordered everything.”

The first time they did it, Laurent had some problems with rhythm, and eventually they kind of lost interest and Damen took the harness off her and fucked her, instead.

The second time, she was much better, and the third time she was actually very close to getting Damen off just by fucking him.

The fourth time was an elaborate staged scenario that Laurent had set up for Auguste to see when he came back from the airport. Laurent was tracking Auguste’s location on her phone, which meant that she kept interrupting the fucking to check his whereabouts, and if Damen got too into it, she stopped, and patted his back, and said, “Wait!”

Eventually they heard his key in the door, and him setting down a bag, and then Laurent said, loudly, “Oh no, your husband is home!”

Damen had some sort of line he was supposed to say here. “What if he catches us?”

“What are we going to do?” Laurent said, fake wide eyes and still fucking Damen smoothly as Auguste came into the bedroom.

Damen thought he had some other line he was supposed to say, but Laurent was hitting a delicious spot inside of him, so he just moaned.

Auguste was much better at Laurent’s game than Damen was. “Oh my god,” he said, fake surprised. “I can’t believe you would do this to me! Damen!”

Laurent looked arch. “Sometimes you just need cock,” she said.

“I can’t believe you cheated on me while I was away for work,” Auguste said. “And in our bed! What a whore!” Damen had never quite been the object of Auguste's dirty talk in this way before, and he had new insight into how Auguste had convinced dozens of women to be fucked in the ass like it wasn’t a big deal. 

“Let me make it up to you,” Damen said, reaching one hand for Auguste’s belt, and when he drew Auguste in closer to undo Auguste’s zipper with his teeth that seemed to startle both Laurent and Auguste into turned-on silence. 

Damen realized they had never done this before. Laurent had made her refusal to perform oral sex clear, and Damen hadn't considered performing it on Auguste himself back when they started because--well, because he hadn't been having sex with Auguste directly at all. They did, sometimes, now, indulging Laurent in wanting to watch or because she wasn't there and one of them wanted to fuck, but Damen had never seriously revisited the idea of going down on Auguste in his mind.

It now seemed like a serious oversight.

Laurent was slow to regain her rhythm once Damen had taken Auguste within his mouth.

Damen felt especially conscious of the weight of Auguste’s cock in his mouth, and of the fact that both Auguste and Laurent were watching him. He laved the head with his tongue and sucked gently, and Auguste rested his hands softly on Damen’s head.

It had been a long time since Damen had gone down on anyone, and while he knew Auguste’s body well enough, he didn’t know Auguste’s preferences in this. It was exciting, somehow to be both known and new all at once, to be exploring the body of someone he knew so well in a new way.

When Auguste finished, Damen swallowed. Laurent pulled out, behind him, and Damen licked his lips, wondering if Laurent was uncomfortable with other people performing oral sex in the same way she refused to perform it herself. But Laurent rolled on top of him, the silicone cock she was wearing squished awkwardly against Damen's still-hard cock, and kissed Damen deeply.

"Damen, you should use your mouth on me, too," she said urgently, and she fumbled with the harness to get it off in her eagerness. 

Going down on Laurent was familiar, and Damen was well familiar with what she liked and how she reacted.

Auguste seemed to have recovered their earlier banter, and was elaborating on what a horrible husband Damen was to let someone else fuck him while Auguste was away. He was feeling at Damen’s ass while he did it, which Damen leaned into easily, rocking between Laurent and Auguste’s hand.

He arched a little bit, and Auguste traced along the line of his spine, and Damen lifted his head to say, “Fuck me, please.”

“You’re so desperate for it,” said Auguste. “Can’t wait until I get home and then haven’t had a cock in you for five minutes and you want it again.”

And so Damen found himself between Auguste and Laurent a second time in the same afternoon.


	17. Sixteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which time passes, Laurent tries something new, and Damen and Auguste hope Laurent is a good liar.

After the first time that Damen gave Auguste a blowjob, it became not unusual for Auguste to occasionally ask. Auguste was diffident about asking, as though it didn’t matter to him much what Damen’s response was, but he asked for things so rarely that Damen paid particular attention. So when Auguste said, occasionally, “Damen, would you--” Damen was inclined to agree, even though Auguste didn’t offer to reciprocate.

Damen liked cock, after all, and he liked Auguste’s cock in particular. Auguste had an amazing body. He worked out, and he was not quite as built as Damen, but lean and muscular and attractive enough to catch people’s gaze if he took his shirt off at the gym. 

Damen remembered the day that Laurent behaved strangely because it was actually the day of their wedding anniversary. Damen had brought Auguste a celebratory cake from the bakery, and Auguste had said, “I can’t eat that, Damen, I’ll get fat,” and proceeded to eat most of it anyway, until Laurent came along and ate the rest of it off of Auguste’s plate without even using a fork, “Like an animal,” Auguste said. 

Auguste gave Damen a watch, but he seemed to have agonized about it a lot, with a long explanation for why he’d deviated from tradition that Damen didn’t pay much attention to. Auguste buying him a watch didn’t matter much when Auguste bought everything that they had, except that it was a rather fancier watch than Damen might have picked for himself. But he’d been wearing it, later, when they’d been having sex.

Damen didn’t know what instigated it, exactly. Auguste had been fucking Damen, and the two of them were taking turns kissing Laurent. They were all close on the bed, cuddling and touching. Auguste and Laurent were bantering with each other in dirty talk like usual. Damen was being sweet and telling Laurent how beautiful she was.

It was all very typical, warm and pleasant, when, without warning, Laurent slid down Damen’s body and took his cock into her mouth.

“Oh,” said Damen, shocked. “Sweetheart.” His hands flew to her head but before he touched her he drew them back. 

It devolved quickly after that. Damen came quickly, and Auguste shortly after. It was shocking and tender and Laurent sucked him through it, swallowed neatly, and licked him clean before she rested her forehead against his thigh. She wasn’t saying anything and she wasn’t moving.

Auguste and Damen looked at each other.

Damen said, “Laurent, sweetheart--”

At almost the same moment, Auguste said, “Honey--”

And then Laurent started crying.

That was better than the silence, but only barely. Damen wanted to hold her but was kind of afraid to touch her. 

Auguste reached over and wrapped one of his hands softly around hers. 

She didn’t move, but she didn’t move her hand away, and after a moment she grasped Auguste’s hand strongly. 

After a moment, Damen said, “Do you want to talk about--this?”

“No,” Laurent said.

Damen could see that Auguste looked relieved at her denial, but Laurent didn’t see his expression.

A few days later, Damen overheard Laurent talking to Auguste in the kitchen. “Do you still have the number of my old therapist?”

Damen could see Auguste’s expression. He had wide eyes and was biting his lip. “I’ll look it up.”

Auguste was scared to talk to Laurent about it, but he wanted to talk to Damen about it privately all the time. 

“What do you think it means?” he asked Damen. Damen had no idea. He knew less than Auguste did about what had even happened to Laurent, and he had no idea what to do about it even if he did know. He had a vague sort of notion that he wanted to cradle Laurent close and not let her go outside, but that didn’t seem like the right response.

Auguste clearly didn’t know what he was doing either, but he decided, apparently, to model healthy sexual behavior by blowing Damen in the middle of the living room while talking a lot about how great it was. 

He checked, first, if Damen was agreeable, and Damen was so confused about what Auguste was even suggesting that this took several minutes. “You want to give me a blow job?”

“Only if you enthusiastically consent,” said Auguste.

“I thought you weren’t gay,” said Damen.

“You’re my husband and if you enthusiastically consent I want to give you a blow job,” said Auguste, starting to sound exasperated.

“Right now?” said Damen, to be clear, and when Auguste rolled his eyes, Damen said, “Yes, yes, I consent, enthusiastically, please.”

Laurent was preparing cereal in the kitchen and rolled her eyes dramatically at their antics.

When Damen’s cock was wet from Auguste’s mouth and Auguste was starting to find a rhythm, he drew off. “Actually I really do like this.”

Laurent laughed over her cereal bowl. 

“Oh my god,” said Damen. “Keep going.”

Laurent had learned to drive, a process which had involved a lot of arguing and Auguste insisting she was making his hair go grey, so when she finally had a therapy appointment again she left for it alone.

Auguste pretended ostentatiously to not be paying attention as she left, and sat down next to Damen fretfully as soon as she left.

“What if they convince her to stop having sex with us?” he said.

Damen started to worry about this more than he had before. “Is she going to tell them?”

“How is she going to explain it?” said Auguste. “She has to tell them something.”

“She’s good at lying,” Damen said dubiously.

“Is it bad to hope my sister is lying to her therapist?” said Auguste.

They sat in silence for a moment, worrying. 

“What will we do, if she wants to stop?” said Auguste.

“I don’t think she wants to stop,” said Damen, patting Auguste’s leg.

“But if she does.”

“Then we stop.”

“But what about us,” said Auguste.

“You’re my husband,” Damen said, eyeing him sidelong. “I suppose we’ll cope.”

“So you don’t want a divorce if she wants to stop?” said Auguste.

“What?” said Damen. “Auguste, are you on something?”

Auguste confessed that he might have taken something to make him relax.

“Did it make you insane?” said Damen. 

“I won’t argue if you want to divorce me,” said Auguste.

“Do _you_ want a divorce?” said Damen. 

“No!” said Auguste. 

“Why are we even arguing about this?” said Damen.

Auguste didn’t answer that, but he placed his hand down on top of where Damen’s was resting on his thigh.

After some time had passed, Damen said, venturing a joke, “Why would I divorce you now that you’ve discovered your enthusiastic love for blow jobs--” which ended in Auguste tackling him and both of them laughing a bit too much.

Laurent came back from her appointment. Auguste pretended that he and Damen were so busy making out they didn’t notice, but Damen could feel him tense at the noise her key made in the lock. Laurent didn’t talk about what had happened or about what she had said during her appointment and she made no indication that she wanted to stop having sex with them. Kind of the opposite, actually, since she interrupted their making out to sit on Damen’s face.

She also made no indication that she was going to blow Damen again, but Auguste turned out to actually be more interested, though not as talented (at least at first).

It was only a short time after that, that Laurent and Auguste’s uncle was released from prison. 

Damen knew that their uncle was in prison, for some kind of financial scheme--he’d stolen a lot of money from the company that he worked for, Damen thought. That was why Laurent had moved in with Auguste in the first place. In Damen’s head, though, this meant they’d never have to see him again. He wasn’t expecting him to be released so soon.

Damen found out about it because Auguste called him. “Go get her from school right now.”

“I’m in the middle of a cake,” Damen objected. His hands were covered in ganache. 

“He just left here--”

“Are you at work?”

“Yes, and I don’t want him to try and see her, and the first place he would try to look is her school.”

“Okay,” said Damen, and he turned the cake over to Pallas, who eyed the consistency of the ganache nervously, and then he drove off to Laurent’s school. He felt creepy, pulling up in the parking lot in the middle of the day, and it was worse when Laurent snuck out a side door of the school and clambered into the car next to him. He pulled away from the school and--cautious of Auguste’s warning not to go anywhere their uncle would think to look for Laurent--didn’t go back to Auguste’s place, but took her to the city library. 

Laurent worked remarkably calmly on her homework at an old wooden table in a corner of the library, and Damen watched nervously and jumped a little bit any time someone ventured over into the reference section. He felt, somehow, as though he were kidnapping Laurent or something. 

“That’s ridiculous,” Laurent told him. 

She whispered a whole list of reasons. First, she was cooperating, so he couldn’t really be kidnapping her. 

“Maybe you’re confused, like people get when they are kidnapped, what’s it called--”

“Second--” Laurent continued, Damen was actually her legal guardian, one of them, and was allowed to pull her out of school if he wanted to, even if it was just to sit at the library.

Laurent’s third reason remained unstated, because Auguste texted Damen to meet him and gave him an address.

Laurent packed up her books and craned to look at Damen’s phone. “Is that Halvik’s office?”

It was. 

They arrived, and the receptionist at Halvik’s office led them into a conference room. The conference room was modern and the chairs were strangely complicated. Auguste was already sitting in one of them, in his work clothes, and Halvik was seated across from him, with another woman next to her, who she introduced as one of her colleagues specializing in criminal law. They sat down, Laurent next to Auguste, and Damen on her other side.

Halvik offered coffee or water, and after both Damen and Laurent declined, she gestured to Auguste to go ahead.

“I don’t really know where to start,” said Auguste, retying his hair in a knot.

“Just start where you like and we’ll ask questions if we need to,” said Halvik’s colleague.

Auguste gestured to himself and Laurent. “Our parents died--after I was an adult, but while Laurent was still little. So Laurent was living with our uncle--our father’s brother. A couple years ago, he was arrested for embezzlement, and convicted, and once the proceedings started and then once he was in prison Laurent came to live with me, instead.”

“How old were you, then?” Halvik’s colleague Elle asked Laurent.

“Fourteen,” Laurent said quietly.

“And how old are you now?”

“Sixteen.”

“You have sole custody?” said Halvik to Auguste.

“With Damen,” said Auguste, nodding at Damen. “He adopted Laurent when we married last year.”

Halvik nodded. “Go on.”

“Today,” Auguste said, “my uncle came to see me.” He paused.

“Where were you?” Elle prompted. 

“At work,” said Auguste. He named his company. “We spoke in my office. He told me,” Auguste was looking sidelong at Laurent. “He told me that he hadn’t actually stolen the money that he was convicted for stealing. He said he was set up.”

“Why did he tell you this?” said Elle.

“Because,” said Auguste. “He said he knows that Laurent is the one who did it, and he wants the money.”

“Laurent wouldn’t do that,” said Damen defensively.

Auguste ignored him, and his eyes were still on his sister. “Where’s the money, Laurent?”

Laurent was looking back at him evenly. The two lawyers had their gaze fixed on her as well. “An account overseas,” she said finally.

Auguste put his elbows on the table and placed his face in his hands.

Laurent looked down at the table. 

Auguste lowered his hands and looked at the lawyers. “Can we return it? How do we get out of this?” He turned to Laurent. “Did you spend any of it?”

Laurent shook her head.

Auguste turned back to the lawyers. “So we can give it back, right?”

Halvik turned to Elle. Elle looked grave. “It’s not that simple.” She looked at Laurent. “It’s not not stealing if you simply return what you took.”

“I’m not stupid,” said Laurent, objecting to Elle’s tone. “I didn’t steal it because I wanted millions of dollars. I thought the FBI would get it back. I did it because--” she stopped, suddenly. 

“Because?” Elle prompted.

“Because I didn’t want to live with my uncle anymore,” said Laurent.

“Because he was abusing you?” said Halvik.

Laurent turned accusatory eyes on Auguste. “You told them?”

“Laurent,” Auguste opened his hands pleadingly. “You stole seven million dollars.”

“Laurent,” said Elle. “You could face prison for this. The same prison sentence your uncle has served, and potentially more, for framing someone else for the crime. If there are mitigating circumstances regarding your motivation, it will be important to your defense.”

Laurent looked at Elle, and then at Halvik, and then she glanced sideways at Auguste. 

“Would you prefer to speak about it privately?” said Halvik, in her gravelly voice. 

“No,” Laurent said quickly. She sighed. “Yes, because he was abusing me.”

Halvik leaned in. “If we use this in court,” she said, “you will be pressed to be more more specific.”

“How specific?” said Laurent.

“Claims of abuse after the fact are challenging,” said Halvik. “Often there is only conflicting testimony. Evidence would be best. Records of doctor’s visits, for example.”

Laurent was quiet. 

“What if we don’t have anything like that?” said Auguste. 

“There’s,” Laurent interrupted, “evidence.”

Auguste looked over at her, surprised.

“What kind of evidence?” said Halvik.

“There’s a video.” Laurent looked up.

Auguste looked stricken. Damen felt about as sick as Auguste looked.

“But,” said Auguste. “The FBI took all of his computers. They would have found it, and that never came up--”

“Can you describe what happens in the video?” said Halvik.

Laurent looked down again. “We were--having sex.”

“You and your uncle,” said Halvik.

Laurent nodded.

“When you were fourteen.”

Laurent nodded again. 

“And he took a video of it?”

“No,” said Laurent. “I took a video of it. I don’t think he knew I was recording it.”

“Is he recognizable, in the video?” said Halvik.

“I can show it to you,” said Laurent.

She pulled out her phone from her pocket.

Auguste swore. “You have it on your phone?”

“It’s encrypted,” said Laurent defensively. “I’m not stupid!”

Auguste looked like might dispute that. 

Laurent brought up a video on her phone, secretively entered a password, and then passed the phone to Halvik.

Halvik and Elle watched the video impassively for a few moments, and then Halvik passed the phone back to Laurent. Laurent did something, and the fleeting image of blonde hair that Damen had seen on the screen disappeared.

“Laurent,” Auguste said, and his voice broke. Damen looked over and could see that Auguste was crying. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“You were always gone, for work!” said Laurent. “I would try to call you and you said, ‘Not now, Laurent, it’s night here,’ or ‘Laurent, I’m in a meeting.’”

Auguste swore again and pressed his mouth against his clenched fist. 

Halvik and Elle outlined a plan, together. Damen half-listened to the details, and then Laurent went to another room to record a statement, and Damen sat next to Auguste. Auguste was crying again. Damen reached out a hand, across Laurent’s empty chair, and Auguste took it.

That night, still cognizant that the uncle might be looking for them, they went to a hotel. Auguste ordered room service but Laurent was the only one who seemed to be hungry. Auguste talked on the phone with Ancel. “Clear my calendar.” “It’s personal.” “I won’t be in then.” “No, I can’t talk about it.” 

Eventually, Laurent pulled Damen over to the bed, and she curled up on top of him, but Auguste stayed across the room staring at his phone, and Damen didn’t fall asleep.

Once Laurent was sleeping, Damen eased out from underneath her and went over to Auguste. He put a reassuring hand on Auguste’s shoulder. 

Auguste looked over at Laurent, and then grabbed one of the key cards for their hotel room from the table and Damen followed him out into the hall. They wound up talking in the strange artificial lighting of one of the hotel stairwells.

“This isn’t your fault,” said Damen.

“If she goes to prison, Damen, I think I might die.”

Damen put an arm around his shoulders. “It’ll be okay.”

“Just, you probably want out of all of this,” said Auguste. “But don’t divorce me until after the court proceedings because if we’re married you can’t be forced to testify against us.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” said Damen.

“If you want out,” said Auguste. “I’ll lie, and say you had nothing to do with anything--it’d be your and my word against hers, and she’s already not trustworthy--”

“I’m pretty sure she has me on video,” Damen said calmly.

Auguste swore, burying his face in his hands again. Damen squeezed his shoulders. 

“I mean, I knew,” said Auguste. “From when I first touched her, that it was over. That there was no going back. But I didn’t really understand it.”

“When you first touched her,” said Damen, thinking back to when Laurent had first started texting him and how horribly guilty he had felt.

“There was probably no escaping it when my parents brought her home from the hospital and said, here’s your sister, that was it.”

The next morning, they went back to Halvik’s office, and Halvik and Elle had arranged for them to file statements with the police and the FBI.

Damen mostly just watched, though he had to sign some of the documents as one of Laurent’s guardians.

Halvik and Elle explained each of the documents one at a time. “And this is a restraining order against your uncle, to keep him from harassing you, or your brother, or your brother’s husband.”

Laurent met next with an FBI agent, and she sat quietly and Halvik and Elle calmly provided information and pointed out things in the paperwork they were providing.

They stayed that night again in a hotel, because Auguste still didn't want to see their uncle. The following day, they got a call from Halvik that their uncle had been arrested.

"Will he get bail?" Auguste asked.

"It's unlikely," she said. "He's on parole and the charges are serious."

So they took Laurent to school, late, but she could still go to most of her classes. Laurent hadn't been arrested, yet, though apparently Elle expected she would be soon, and none of them were allowed to leave the area. After they had watched Laurent walk into the school, Auguste dropped Damen off at the bakery. Before Damen got out of the car, Auguste leaned over and kissed him slowly. "Thank you," he said.

The bakery was a welcome distraction from everything else that was going on, and Damen threw himself into decorating a seven-dozen cupcake order.

It seemed strange to be back at Auguste's place that evening, as though nothing had changed, when really everything felt different. Laurent's dishes from several days ago were still sitting dirty in the sink, but now Auguste wasn't even lecturing her about it because he was terrified she was going to go to prison.

Later that week, Laurent was arrested, which Damen pictured as her being walked out of the high school in handcuffs but really just involved more paperwork in Elle's office. Laurent was allowed to come home with them afterward, even.

It seemed very strange, to Damen, who pictured being arrested as at least involving a trip to the police station. "She's turned herself in," said Elle. "The circumstances don't make it such that she's likely to be committing the crime again while they investigate, and Auguste has put up enough assurances that they don't think she's a flight risk."

"What does that mean?" Damen had asked Auguste, but Auguste had only said it meant he'd paid a lot of money, and didn't elaborate.

Auguste was supposed to go to France for work, but he also wasn't supposed to leave the area before Laurent's trial. Ancel argued with Elle, apparently, and Elle won, because Auguste did not go to France. Berenger went, instead, Damen heard.

But then, there wasn't a trial, because Elle called Auguste to tell them that she was negotiating a deal.

They went to her office to discuss it. "What's the deal?" said Auguste.

Elle handed them some papers, but Auguste didn't even look at them, just waited for her to summarize. "They're willing," said Elle, "to consider mitigating circumstances, such as Laurent's age, and the circumstances of her uncle's custody, in offering this deal." They waited. "Laurent would not serve any prison time," Elle continued.

"Thank god," said Auguste.

"But she would be on probation for six months," Elle continued. "And of course all of this is contingent on her making restitution."

"What does that mean?" said Damen.

"I have to return the money," said Laurent.

"Agreed," said Auguste. "We'll do it."

Elle was watching Laurent herself. "I think it's a generous offer. It's an unusual case, to be sure, but it's not common for a crime involving such significant amounts of money to go this way."

Laurent was quiet.

"What do you think, Laurent?" said Elle.

"Does it matter?" said Laurent. "Auguste already said he agrees."

"Well," said Elle, "you're actually the one with the money that needs to be returned, right?"

"Laurent, please," Auguste said, sounding near tears again. "You have to see that this is the best possible--"

"All right," said Laurent.

Elle made arrangements for the paperwork finalizing Laurent's deal, and then Laurent turned over the information about her secret Swiss bank account to one of the FBI agents.

After all the paperwork was finished and they were finally able to leave, Auguste stood up slowly. Laurent and Damen were already near the door. Auguste approached, walking slowly. He got to where they were waiting, and then he embraced Laurent tightly.

She already had her coat and hat on and she squeaked in his arms, her arms coming up defensively. He kept squeezing her. "Don't frighten me like this, honey. I can't take it."

Damen put a hand on each of their shoulders. Auguste didn't let go of Laurent. After a minute, she twisted in his grip to be able to hug him in return.

"I can't do it," Auguste repeated.

"I won't," said Laurent.

"Good," said Auguste, and they left.

Laurent didn't have any other felonious plans--at least not that Damen knew of. Her main takeaway from the whole experience seemed to be that she wanted to be a lawyer. She weathered providing testimony at her uncle's second trial evenly, and the judge closed the court given the nature of the testimony so no one was allowed in the judge's office, just Laurent and Halvik and the judge.

Damen and Auguste sat outside and Auguste held Damen's hand extra tight.

Auguste had been worried about seeing his uncle at the trial. "I want to kill him," he'd confessed to Damen quietly, while Laurent was sleeping. But they only saw him across the room, incidentally.

In his mind, Damen had built Auguste and Laurent's uncle into some horrible monster. Of course, when Damen saw him, he was just a man. He was middle-aged, lean, with darker hair than Auguste or Laurent trimmed neatly and going grey at the temples. He looked like how Damen imagined people at Auguste's office looking, a typical business person. Damen would never have given him a second thought if he had passed him on the street. At one point, they were both trying to use the coffee vending machine in the courthouse, and their uncle said politely, "Excuse me," and Damen replied politely on instinct, not even realizing who it was.

He felt bad, later. How could he have been polite to someone who had done such terrible things to Laurent? Yet Auguste had a family album of photos in his living room that included photos of their uncle inside it, and he hadn't gone through and removed his father's brother systematically from all of them. Damen had seen a family portrait where their uncle was holding a tiny Auguste, back when he had probably only been four or five, and it still featured prominently in the album. Auguste couldn't get rid of it without also getting rid of a photo of his parents, Damen realized, and he supposed that was the problem with family betraying you. It was so intertwined with everything else that it was impossible to ever forget.

Damen felt like his new role was as a confidant. Auguste talked to him all the time, telling him how he felt and squeezing Damen's hand and sometimes resting his head on Damen's shoulder. Damen made a point of seeking Laurent out, alone, when Auguste was busy with work, and telling her that if she ever wanted to tell him anything, she could, even if she didn't want to tell Auguste.

"But you're a horrible liar," she said affectionately.

"I am," he agreed. "But you can tell me anything, Laurent, I swear."

She said that she appreciated it, but she didn't burst forth with any kind of confession.

Laurent had to give testimony a second time. Damen didn't completely follow why, except that Auguste was angry about it, and Elle was frustrated and hadn't expected it, and Halvik was patient and coached Laurent again on what she was going to say. The night before, Auguste went for a run--because he was too stressed out to do anything else--and Laurent found Damen at the sink in the bathroom, and she said, mysteriously, "Don't touch my hair," and then went down on her knees in front of him.

Damen pressed his hands flat against the counter behind him, deliberately not touching Laurent's hair. He could sense the cool smooth texture of the granite under his fingertips, and he pressed down more firmly. He tried to tell himself that Laurent going to her knees didn't mean anything. It didn’t mean she was going to do anything. He told his cock to stop having expectations. But he wasn’t entirely successful, especially when she pulled his pajama pants down to his hips.

She looked at him, for a long moment, first up at his face, and then lowering her gaze to his nakedness. She had seen him before, he told himself. She had seen him hundreds of times. Yet there seemed to be something very different about it, for her, from this angle, or with what she was contemplating in mind.

Damen gripped the counter so tightly his knuckles were white. When he had almost convinced himself that Laurent was not going to do anything more than kneel on the plush rug Auguste kept in his bathroom, Laurent leaned in. 

He expected her to spit, after, into the sink, as Auguste sometimes did, but she swallowed neatly as she stood up next to him, her gaze not quite settling on his face, but flicking from his shoulder to the mirror to the towels across the room.

He wasn’t sure if her prohibition about touching was still in place, so he leaned in to touch his lips to hers without reaching to cradle her head, and she seemed surprised that he would kiss her, after. She leaned into the kiss, though, stepping closer to him, and he placed a hand on her back, and the kiss grew deeper. After a long moment of making out, he found himself lifting her up a few inches to set her on the bathroom counter, and that gave her an extra couple inches of height and suddenly they were kissing without Damen bending his neck down quite so far to meet her.

“Auguste doesn’t like kissing, after oral,” she said.

Damen wasn’t sure if that meant that she’d tried the same experiment on Auguste, but he hadn’t kissed her afterward, which seemed awful to Damen but possibly believable, or if she had just observed that Auguste didn’t like to kiss Damen after one or the other of them had gone down on the other.

“He’s a neat freak who likes brushing his teeth too much,” Damen said, leaning in to kiss her again.

They made out for a time, and then they rested with their faces touching again. “Laurent,” Damen said. “I will miss you, someday, when you meet someone.”

“Meet someone?”

“When you find someone your own age, and fall in love with them, and want to be together in a real relationship and get married yourself and all of that.”

Laurent smiled sadly. “That’s not going to happen.”

“I want it to,” said Damen. “I want you to be happy. I want you to have everything that you deserve to have.”

“I do, Damen,” she said, reaching a hand up to cup gently around his cheek. “I am.”


	18. Going Away and Coming Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which everyone gets older, Damen buys a bakery, and there is pointed lack of discussion of Laurent going away to college.

Their uncle’s trial stretched out past Laurent’s seventeenth birthday, and the end of her junior year, and throughout the summer. The owner of Damen’s bakery, Egeria, was starting to talk about retiring, and she offered to sell the bakery to Damen if he wanted to run it himself. 

Damen fretted for a time about if he wanted to be the owner of The Summer Palace. He loved the bakery, he loved how it smelled and the display case in the front with all of the pretty treats that they made. He didn’t feel ready to be the owner of a small business, though. Egeria sat him down with the books one afternoon and talked to him about the business side of it, and how he could talk to the bank about a small business loan.

“Do you think I should buy The Summer Palace?” Damen asked Auguste.

“Do you want to run a bakery?” said Auguste.

“I guess,” Damen said. 

“Do you want to do something else?”

“I love baking,” said Damen.

“You don’t have to run a bakery to do that,” said Auguste. 

“But maybe it’s a good way to do it.”

Damen thought about it, and stress-baked a souffle, and then watched Laurent eat the souffle, and finally decided that he couldn’t bear for The Summer Palace to close and told Egeria he would do it.

He made an appointment to talk to a loan officer at the bank, and Egeria helped him prepare the paperwork. Auguste kissed the top of his head and told him he was adorable. The day that Damen had his appointment happened to be his birthday. Damen woke up to find himself alone in bed, which was disappointing, because he had been hoping for morning birthday sex. And maybe also afternoon birthday sex, and evening birthday sex--which, wouldn’t have actually been that unusual, they had a lot of sex. And it was his birthday, but somehow his lovers were already awake.

But he looked over to find they’d left him something on the empty pillow. A note. No, not a note, some kind of official document. There was a sticky note on it that said, “Happy Birthday -A” and when Damen looked closer at the document it was the deed for the bakery.

The fall also brought Laurent applying to colleges. Laurent clung like a limpet to Damen for weeks while Auguste managed somehow to avoid all her tearful worries, and then finally, one afternoon, Auguste sighed and opened his arms and Laurent folded into them gratefully. 

She was mumbling against his chest, all the things she’d been confessing to Damen over the last few weeks. “I want to go there but I want to stay here, too!”

“You’ll be great there,” Auguste promised her. 

“But I’ll miss you and Damen.”

“We’ll visit you a lot,” Auguste said. “You’ll be desperate to be rid of us.”

“But Damen can’t spend that much time away from the bakery,” said Laurent, sniffling.

“Damen will just have to sell the bakery and become my kept man,” said Auguste.

“Okay,” Laurent said.

“Wait--” Damen interrupted.

Auguste seemed, in general, to have a very different attitude toward work and money than Damen did. Objectively, Auguste worked way more hours than Damen did. It was not uncommon for him to go in to his office at seven in the morning and not to leave it until seven in the evening. When he left earlier, it was often because he was taking a client out to dinner, which brought him home even later. He traveled frequently, at least once a month, working away from his office. 

In a typical month, Damen probably spent two or three times as much time with Laurent as he did with Auguste, because of the way their work schedules interacted. But if the question was who was better able to spend weekends flying across the country to visit her, Auguste's schedule was definitely going to be more accommodating.

Running the bakery took significantly more time than just working at it. Damen hired one of Pallas’s friends, Lydos, to work the register and take phone orders and make coffee, and then Lydos suggested that all of this would be easier if they took online orders, and they started doing that as well, which meant that the phone rang less but the door actually chimed more. Ancel got Auguste’s company to switch their catering orders to Damen’s bakery, which was a steady pastry order for their conference rooms.

Auguste seemed to see Damen’s ownership of the bakery as a reason to be more curious about it, and though Damen didn’t think he had ever stepped inside in the several years Damen had worked there while Egeria owned the place, he popped by every so often once Damen was at the helm. 

Auguste liked to edge his way behind the counter and come find Damen in the back, where Damen often had his hands full of dough. Damen usually sent Auguste away with coffee and a cupcake for Ancel to complain had too many carbs. One time, scandalously, Auguste managed to push Damen a little bit further in his office in the back, except they hadn’t locked the door, so Pallas walked in on Auguste down on his knees and blushed, panicked, and backed out of the office and knocked over a giant mixing bowl. 

One time, Damen overheard Lydos telling a regular customer, “That’s the owner’s husband,” nodding at Auguste as he left one day, and even though Damen had been married to Auguste for almost two years it still seemed weird sometimes, to think about. Sometimes Damen still had a hazy picture of “the future” in his mind, where he had what he thought of as a normal life, which didn’t involve Auguste or Laurent but maybe had a hazy set of children running around in a yard. But who did the have the children with, he asked himself. And even though that lingered in his mind, it didn’t match how he planned day to day, when Auguste asked him if he wanted to go to the beach again with Laurent the following year and he said yes.

Auguste turned thirty, that year, which prompted a lot of ribbing from their group of friends, as he was the oldest, and each of them bought Auguste consolatory drinks. It also prompted a lot of teasing from Laurent, who got Auguste a whole set of black balloons and talked a lot about how he was probably too old to fuck her the way she liked, anymore, which ended up with her bent over the back of the couch, Auguste’s hand on her back, Laurent clutching the couch cushions and moaning and taking it hard.

Laurent turned eighteen, which made Damen realize that he was no longer really doing anything wrong. Sure, he was having sex with someone he wasn’t married to, but polyamorous relationships did that all the time, it wasn’t _bad_. He tried to explain this feeling to Auguste, who said, confusingly, “Incest isn’t illegal in France.”

“How do you know that?” Damen asked. And, “You hate France.”

“Come to France with me on my next trip,” said Auguste. 

“I’m not even related to you,” Damen said, but then Auguste kissed him and they lost the conversation. 

They took Laurent to college, and hugged her in front of her dorm and said they’d see her soon. 

Laurent texted Damen all the time. She told him about her roommate, and her classes, and she sent him pictures of a college hat that she bought and of the sticky notes she left in her textbooks. She told him how she felt and what she worried about and when she was thrilled or upset or bored. She sent him sexual texts, too, notes about how she had touched herself in the shower and wished he was there, or that she missed the way he held her. 

She texted Auguste, too, but their messages were different. Damen knew this because at one point she sent Auguste a picture and he handed his phone to Damen to show him, and then Damen curiously thumbed backward through their messages, spying.

Laurent and Auguste’s texts were a mix of completely mundane messages about logistical things--the time Laurent was booking her flight for fall break, the link to a form the bursar’s office needed from Auguste--and absolutely filthy messages. Laurent sent him a picture of an anal plug and a caption “thinking of you” and similarly filthy notes. Auguste responded to her mundane messages at length and Auguste responded to her filthy messages monosyllabically, with “slut” or “whore” or something similar.

Damen wasn’t sure exactly what to expect when Laurent left for school. He was accustomed, physically, to having a lot of sex, and Auguste was similarly so, but before they were only infrequently having it with each other. With Laurent gone, that changed. The first few weeks, they traded blowjobs, which had more of a feeling of offering each other a helping hand than it did the real intimacy of sex. Then Auguste suggested sixty-nineing, and that seemed more emotional, somehow when they were both experiencing their pleasure at the same time, and they took to doing that, instead. 

One lazy Saturday, when they would have undoubtedly have been doing something with Laurent if she’d been there, Auguste said, “Can I--” 

And Damen said, “Yes,” and rolled onto his stomach and lost himself in the feeling of their bodies moving together. 

They did that several more times in between streaks of blowjobs, until another lazy Saturday, when Auguste said, feigning nonchalance, “You can--”

And there was something wanting in his voice that Damen heard beneath his effort to seem uncaring, and so Damen said, “Yes, please,” and then made out with Auguste for a long time before he rolled him over.

When they had left Laurent at college Auguste had told her, “It’ll be exactly the same,” as she cried against his shirt. “Shh.”

But it wasn’t exactly the same. When Laurent came home for her fall break, there were surprises on each end.

“What is _this_?” said Laurent, horrified, and pointing to the tiny chihuahua sitting in Auguste’s shoe.

“What did you do to your hair?” said Auguste, sounding equally horrified.

“You replaced me with a dog,” said Laurent. “A horrible yippy gay dog.”

“His name is Nicaise,” said Damen defensively, picking the dog up. Nicaise licked his face. 

“How could you _let him,_ ” Laurent hissed, turning to Auguste.

“What were you thinking?” said Auguste, hovering his hands around her head. Laurent’s blonde hair, which had formerly hung straight to the middle of her back, was now trimmed into a short pixie cut. She had a few inches of hair all over her head. It exposed her ears, where she wasn’t wearing any earrings, and her neck, which Damen thought was kind of hot. 

Auguste was still mourning her hair. 

“You have your own hair,” said Laurent irritably. “Explain to me about the rat-thing.”

Auguste really had no satisfactory explanation to offer Laurent about the dog. Laurent didn’t seem to think that cutting her hair required any explanation. Sensing the beginning of an argument, Damen set Nicaise down and rested his hands on Laurent’s biceps. “Hey,” he said, standing in front of her.

“Hey,” she said after a moment.

“I missed you,” he said.

“I missed you,” she said. “I missed our conversations.”

“Let’s have a conversation right now,” said Damen, belying his words with his actions and leaning in to kiss her tenderly. 

Then Nicaise pissed on Auguste’s shoe, which resulted in a lot of yelling from Auguste and Laurent, a lot of defensive yipping from Nicaise, and Auguste taking a lot of cleaning supplies out of the closet. 

Laurent’s fall break was short, and the three of them spent most of it in bed, pressing against each other and kissing slowly and acting as though it were important to soak up as much skin-on-skin contact as possible before Laurent had to leave again.


	19. Winter Break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Laurent’s hair is discussed again, Christmas is celebrated, and Auguste develops a new obsession with prostate massage.

Laurent’s winter break was not that long after her fall break, and she was back again. Even spending a requisite couple hours celebrating the holiday with Damen’s family wasn’t as terrible as it might have been if Damen and Auguste hadn’t known that Laurent was waiting for them back at the apartment.

At winter break, Laurent’s hair was a little bit longer on her head, but her hair--other places--was notably long, as well, which led to something of a stand-off between her and Auguste. She was obviously waiting for her brother’s reaction, stripping slowly and watching him intently, and after a flare of something went through Auguste’s eyes, he refused to give her what she wanted, and just raised a challenging eyebrow at her. 

Finally, Laurent whined, “Don’t you want to wax me?”

Auguste stepped close to her, got in her face, and said, “Beg me.”

Laurent’s eyes widened, and she didn’t say anything, and she still had pubic hair later that afternoon, so Damen figured they were still at a standoff.

Laurent caved first, and got back into Auguste’s space, and when he looked at her she said, sullenly, “Please.”

“That’s the worst begging I’ve ever heard.”

“Come on, Auguste,” she said.

He looked her up and down. “If you are serious,” he said, “get Damen to tie you up.”

“I don’t need to be tied up,” she said, “I’m asking--begging--you to do this.”

Auguste turned his eyes back to his phone and ignored her.

Laurent didn’t beg Damen, either, she just got out all the bondage stuff and took it into the bathroom where she’d set up the waxing stuff and then she dragged Damen by the hand into the bathroom also. “Help me,” she said. It was more of a directive than a plea.

“I don’t really want to be in the middle of this fight,” said Damen. “I don’t care if--” she leaned in and kissed him.

“Do we need to fuck first to get you in the mood?”

“I wasn’t--” Damen started.

Laurent was feeling him up now through his pants. “Just a quickie,” said Laurent, and it somehow shouldn’t have sounded so filthy. “In, out, a fast fuck and then you can tie me up--” Damen’s train of thought derailed.

“Not here,” he said. “In the bedroom--” He almost tripped taking off his pants while he backed Laurent against the bed, and neither of them bothered to take their shirts off before she pulled him against her, wrapping her leg over his hip.

She curled her hips a little. “Come on,” she said, “fast.”

It wasn’t usual, for them. They tended to linger, and Damen often had Laurent trembling and breathless from her first few orgasms before he let himself fuck her slowly. It was different, now with her eyes on him, demanding, watching as he thrust, waiting for him to come.

She took off her watch, as he was fucking her, and then before she put it aside on the nightstand she glanced at the time, as though Damen fucking her were so boring it occupied almost none of her attention, and he half-collapsed on her and bit her neck and said, “I hate you.”

“You love me,” she retorted, her tone brooking no opposition.

After he came, Laurent let him collapse on top of her for approximately one second before she squirmed and wanted to go back to the tying up.

That all seemed like a lot of post-coital work, to Damen. “Let me go down on you,” he suggested. “You haven’t gotten off.”

“I’m going to get off,” she said. “You have to tie me up and then go get Auguste.”

“You have the weirdest foreplay.”

“You got off to me checking my watch,” she said. 

Damen had kind of hoped that had been less obvious, and he turned to hide the fact that he was blushing.

“Why was that even hot?” he said, half to himself, but Laurent leaned in to press a kiss to his shoulder.

“You liked it because it was long term relationship sex. You like intimacy,” she said.

“I like going down on you,” he said.

She laughed. “Yes, but you like that we know each other and are comfortable together and you like signs of that because it makes you feel happy inside, I don’t know, come and tie me up.”

Laurent had a lot of opinions about how he should tie her up, and when he was finished she was immobile and easily accessible, her wrists tied to each of her ankles and her legs spread wide, exposing her in between. 

“Are you sure I can’t go down on you--” Damen said, staring. It occurred to him that now that she was tied up she couldn’t exactly stop him.

“Go get Auguste!”

Auguste was pretending, in the living room, to be paying absolutely no attention, but he was utterly incapable of that, so it was almost certainly an act, and also, Nicaise was eating his shoe and he hadn’t noticed, so he was obviously distracted.

“Hey,” Damen said, wedging himself awkwardly onto the couch next to Auguste. The two of them were really too large to fit comfortably, and it squished them together.

“You’re not wearing any pants,” said Auguste.

“Your sister is a slut and is tied up in the bathroom,” said Damen. “Why don’t you take your pants off also?”

Auguste and Laurent’s game, of complaining at each other while he waxed her, was the opposite of a quickie, Damen thought. The goal of it seemed to be draw it out as long as possible and see which of them could get the other to break first, and both of them were far too stubborn. 

Auguste decided, first, that Laurent should be waxed everywhere. 

“Oh come on,” said Laurent, as he put some wax on her arm. “I don’t even have any hair there.”

“I see some,” said Auguste.

“It’s blonde; it doesn’t matter,” said Laurent.

“So you don’t want me to wax you?” Auguste sat up, challenging, and Laurent very pointedly pressed her lips shut.

After her arms--which, Damen agreed, didn’t really have much hair--Auguste did her legs, starting at the ankle and working his way up. After her thighs, Laurent was clearly expecting him to continue, but instead, Auguste said, “Oh, I see a hair--” and reached up and spread wax over her nipple. Laurent’s eyes widened. She whimpered, when he tore the strip of fabric and wax off of her breast, and then she whimpered again, in anticipation, when he applied some of the wax to her other nipple.

Finally, Auguste turned his attention between her legs. 

“You’re a mess,” he said.

Laurent managed some semblance of contrition. “Please clean me up.”

“You’re leaking come,” he said. “And--” he slid a finger into her, as though he were doing an inspection, and she arched a little against the ropes “--you’re all slick and moist.” He reached for a wash cloth and made a point of cleaning her up, and Laurent arched again against the sudden rubbing of the fabric. 

He waxed her ass cheeks first, all the way to the crack. Then he went to her inner thighs, working inward. Damen had let Laurent rest her head on his thigh, and she was breathing heavily as Auguste worked. He almost felt offended that she was obviously way more turned on now than she’d been when he’d been fucking her, except for how he was enjoying how turned on she was now also and it seemed silly to feel offended about it.

Auguste got to her mound, where the hair was thick, and Auguste was uncompromising, going in tiny stripes. He followed the same ritual each time, spreading the wax, applying the cloth on top of it, meeting Laurent’s eyes and waiting, then, at some invisible signal, tearing the cloth off, and then rubbing his fingers over the newly exposed soft skin.

Laurent was squirming a bit, so Auguste had his other hand pressed on her leg to hold her still, before he finally stopped. “If you are going to wiggle so much then you can just shave the rest,” he said.

“Come on,” she said.

“If it hurts too much then we’ll stop,” he said.

“I want it,” she said. Auguste looked skeptical.

“You’re squirming,” he said. “You need to stay still, none of these canting hips.”

“I’ll stay still,” she promised, holding herself frozen.

Auguste continued to look skeptical. He ran a finger along her leg, from her knee down to her inner thigh. It was obviously a test. Laurent licked her lips but kept her hips still. Auguste’s finger moved lower.

Damen’s angle didn’t give him a view of exactly what Auguste was doing with his finger directly, but fortunately Auguste’s bathroom was filled with mirrors, and he could see Auguste’s movements in one of them. Auguste brushed his finger over Laurent’s clit, lightly, and then dipped it inside of her, and then trailed it lower to press against her asshole. He pressed his finger inside, to the knuckle, and Laurent hissed, and her hips moved.

“You moved,” Auguste said, withdrawing his finger. He slapped her thigh warningly.

“Oh!” Laurent said, and somehow Auguste interpreted that as ‘hit me again,’ and he did, slapping her thigh slightly higher, and after four hits Laurent flopped down, boneless, and Auguste continued on with his waxing. Laurent was not actually doing very well at holding still, and she arched in a small orgasm against Damen’s thigh as one of the strips of wax came off. Auguste finished her right side, and then he slapped her left thigh, one extra time than he had done the right, and then he finished waxing her on that side.

She was very red, when he was finished, from the waxing and from Auguste’s hand, and she was wet and desperate and kind of whimpering. 

Auguste held his flat hand in front of her clit, “Should I?”

Damen couldn’t tell exactly what he was asking, but Laurent whimpered, “Yes,” and then Auguste slapped her there once, hard, for good measure, and she shuddered in orgasm again.

Auguste leaned in, then, putting his lips on the soft revealed pink skin. And once Auguste was satisfied, and his face was shiny and slick with Laurent’s juices, Damen finally got to turn Laurent around and go down on her himself. 

On Christmas, they celebrated in an unusual double penetration position where Damen was in back and Auguste was in front. Laurent reached a hand lower on Auguste’s back, and somehow managed to finger his ass while they were both fucking her, which meant she got a surprised extra hard thrust.

Auguste gave her a look.

“You do it to me,” Laurent said, fake innocent.

“Damen,” Auguste said, looking over her shoulder. “She’s getting uppity.”

“Getting,” said Damen, questioningly. She’d been uppity for as long as he’d ever known her.

“Someday you’ll beg me for it,” said Laurent, and Auguste denied that vehemently but his denial wasn’t at all convincing.

Laurent gave Auguste a bag of pot for Christmas, which surprised Damen but seemed to genuinely amuse Auguste, and after the holiday they spent a day off all getting high.

Pot apparently made Auguste particularly demanding, and he insisted that Damen fuck him, slowly, and with his thrusts at a particular angle, “God Damen, get it right--” and then, when Damen collapsed on top of him, Auguste complained he hadn’t been finished with that. “Keep going.”

“Yeah, sure,” Damen said. “I’ll fuck you again but you have to give me a minute.”

Damen flopped onto his back on the bed, floating a little bit. 

Laurent was doing something next to the side of the bed, which didn’t become clear until she emerged from her toybox with a harness. 

“I know,” she cooed at Auguste, fake sweet. “It’s so hard when you just want to be fucked and Damen can’t keep it up, right?”

“Hey--” said Damen.

“--But I can help you with that problem,” said Laurent, positioning herself behind Auguste on the bed, and she slid into his already stretched and open hole easily.

“Oh my god,” said Auguste. 

“I can keep it up,” Damen said defensively, “but some people are ridiculous and want to fuck for hours without coming. I like coming!”

“Look at you, opening up around my cock,” said Laurent.

“Oh my god,” said Auguste again. 

Auguste kept saying, “Oh my god,” until he jerked and said, “That--again,” and Laurent repeated the motion.

Laurent pegging Auguste launched a new fascination for Auguste with prostate massage. He ordered all sorts of massagers and had them next-day delivered and then he spent the remainder of Laurent’s winter break experimenting. 

Auguste insisted that Laurent help him, at first. Laurent gave him and the toys he’d spread out on the bed a considering expression, and then she lay down and spread her legs and said, “Go down on me, first,” and Damen watched for a drawn out moment as Auguste considered that, and then he agreeably knelt on the floor next to the bed, tugged Laurent around to the right position, and used his mouth on her.

He did reach for one of the prostate massagers and slid it into her ass as well, apparently curious what its effect would be on her, and she arched and came against his mouth.

Damen was roped into Auguste’s experiments also, because he was apparently easier for Auguste to boss around than Laurent, and also, once Auguste had a theory about what was good, in the ass, he wanted to test it on Damen, too.

“What's better, like this, or like this?”

Damen was terrible at giving feedback and tended to just moan a lot.

Auguste was relentless, too. He had the same fascination with prostate massage that Damen had with making Laurent squirt, and he didn’t seem to take Damen coming twice as any sort of reason to stop his efforts. 

“I’m not that young,” Damen objected, as Auguste kept at it relentlessly with the toy after he’d spilled a second time. “I can’t go three times in a row.”

But then Auguste turned the toy a particular way inside of him after all of that, and he just arched, again, on the bed. Nothing came out but he seemed to twitch a lot and he was speechless.

Auguste looked fascinated.

Auguste told Laurent about it later, and she was upset. “You made him dry come without me! But I want to see that! Do it again.”

Damen drew a hard line. Only one dry orgasm per day. 

“Women are so confusing,” Auguste said. “You leave us alone. What are we supposed to do but fuck each other. But then, you’re mad if we have good sex when you’re not here.”

Laurent rounded on him. “First of all, do not generalize me and all women.”

Auguste sniffed. “Are we supposed to not have sex when you’re not here?”

“No,” said Laurent. “You’re such an idiot.” She was baking with Damen so she wiped her hands on her apron. “Do you care if I have sex with Damen when you’re not there?”

Auguste looked miffed. “No.”

“What if I did something with Damen that you and I had never done it was really amazing?”

Auguste’s expression looked kind of pained. “Are you saying you did something with Damen?”

“It was a hypothetical!” 

“What was it?” said Auguste. “We’re going to try it too, right?”

“You are making my point and you don’t even see it!”

Auguste turned on Damen. “Damen! What have you been doing with Laurent?”

Damen threw the pizza dough in the air and caught it. “Making pizza?”

Auguste had a hilarious facial expression where he was clearly trying to figure out if making pizza were some kind of sex thing.

The next day, Damen’s rule about no more than one dry orgasm per day being accommodated, Auguste and Laurent set out to make it happen again.

“Laurent, get under him,” said Auguste. 

“But I want to see it,” said Laurent.

“We have to drain him first,” said Auguste. “Damen, fuck her.”

Auguste slid his favorite massager into Damen’s ass while he was fucking Laurent slowly, which caused Damen to stutter in his thrusts, Laurent to complain that she couldn’t see anything underneath Damen, and Auguste to sigh and, in a put-upon tone, ask if Damen was close. 

The whole situation was so ridiculous that Damen started to laugh helplessly, and then his arms gave out and he kind of collapsed on top of Laurent, still giggling. Auguste still had the massager in him.

“What did you do?” said Auguste to Laurent.

“He’s broken,” said Laurent, pushing at his shoulders a little bit. “Come on, Damen, don’t you want to dry orgasm again? I want to see it.”

Damen managed to quell his laughter, shut Laurent up by kissing her, and used the familiarity of Laurent’s mouth and a series of hard fast thrusts to orgasm a first time.

“Finally,” said Auguste, and Damen was tempted to semi-hysterical laughter again.

Laurent moved on the bed to kneel next to Auguste behind Damen to watch, and Damen was arranged on his knees and elbows. Auguste lectured Laurent about what he was doing with the massager while he did it as though he were some kind of expert, like he was a master prostate massager, and not that he’d just happened to figure it out once the day before.

Laurent watched and offered salacious suggestions, and after Auguste had managed to get Damen off a second time--his cock jerked weakly and spilled a few drops--Laurent pushed Auguste aside and said, “I want to do it” and Damen collapsed down to lie on his stomach on the bed while she experimented as well.


	20. Long Distance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the characters belatedly discuss fidelity, several people visit Laurent, then Laurent comes home for the summer and Auguste confesses something.

Auguste’s obsession with prostate massage continued even after Laurent returned to school, and it dominated most of their sex for the next few weeks.

After she’d been gone for a few weeks, Auguste happened to have a work trip to her city, and he tacked on an extra weekend to visit her, and Damen caught up on the bakery’s books and wasn’t sure what they did together for their weekend.

He complained, when Auguste got back, that he hadn’t gotten to see Laurent, and also that Auguste was not forthcoming with details of what happened, and Auguste was just like, “So go see her yourself,” and Damen picked a weekend that Pallas was able to handle the bakery and planned his own trip. He left Auguste a page of instructions on how to care for Nicaise--Auguste of course threatened to get rid of Nicaise while Damen was gone--and Auguste dropped him at the airport and kissed him as he got out of the car.

He met up with Laurent at the hotel Ancel had arranged, and they fell into bed, and after a couple of hours of becoming reacquainted, Laurent said, “Damen, let’s go dancing,” and she took Damen out dancing in across town in a club full of mostly drunk students from some other university. Damen hadn’t been out dancing like this in years, a little bit drunk but having fun and already sure he who he was going to go home with.

They emerged out into the night when it was dark and their breath made tiny clouds in the air. “That was fun,” Damen said, wrapping an arm around Laurent when she curled close to him. “I haven’t done anything like that in forever.” 

“You and Auguste don’t go out like that?” she said. Laurent’s hair was a little bit longer, now, than her pixie cut. It fell at about her chin, in a bob, and she had pulled on a wool winter hat that made it stick out underneath. She looked adorable and Damen kissed the top of her hat.

Damen shook his head. “Maybe we should.”

“Do you and Auguste go out and--meet other people?” Laurent was looking at the sidewalk while they waited for their rideshare to take them back to the hotel. 

“We go out with Nikandros and Jord and Pallas and Lazar sometimes,” said Damen, carefully.

“Not like that,” said Laurent.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Laurent sounded exasperated. “Do you pick up women, like you used to?”

“Of course not,” said Damen. 

Laurent was still staring intently at the sidewalk. 

“Have you--met someone?” said Damen. 

Laurent shook her head.

“Do you want to?” said Damen. 

Laurent shook her head again. 

“It would be okay if--”

“It’s just weird,” said Laurent. “To explain why I don’t want to.”

The conversation felt full of landmines. “Okay,” he said. “That makes sense.” It wasn’t as much of a problem for him, since he was married and people assumed--but he could see why it would be hard for her.

Their ride arrived, and then Laurent got involved in a conversation about the best route to the hotel with the driver, and Damen half-forgot the conversation.

He remembered it later, when he was back at home and had rescued Nicaise from his crate, and he said to Auguste, “Do you think Laurent wants to date other people?”

Auguste looked up sharply. “Did she say something?”

“No,” said Damen. “But--”

Auguste didn’t seem convinced. “Are you sure? Tell me what she said.”

“She didn’t say anything! I was just--thinking--she will want--other things--” Auguste was staring at him and Damen suddenly felt vastly unprepared to have this conversation even though he’d inadvertently started it. “I mean, she might want to get married,” Damen said.

“She might,” Auguste said tightly.

Damen flopped down on the couch. His head landed in Auguste’s lap. “I just want her to have what she wants,” he said.

Auguste was quiet for a moment, and then one of his hands carded through Damen’s hair. “I think she wants you,” he said.

“She wants us,” Damen corrected.

Auguste made a noncommittal noise. “I’ve always kind of expected that--that someday you might want to be married to her, not to me.” He was quiet for a moment. “That she might want that, too.”

“She wants you,” said Damen. “She’s always wanted you.”

“She needs me,” said Auguste. “She doesn’t get any money until she turns twenty-one.”

Damen sat up. “It’s not like that,” said Damen. “She’s never cared about--if she didn’t want you, she would have gotten rid of you as easily as she did your uncle.”

“I suppose,” said Auguste.

“She wanted both of us,” said Damen. “She arranged to have both of us. She wanted us for herself and she wanted us married to each other.” 

“Because it was convenient,” said Auguste. “Because it was an easy way for you to move in and spend time with her.”

“She’s not here, now,” said Damen. “We’re still married.”

“I’ve been kind of surprised it’s lasted this long,” said Auguste. 

Damen pushed at Auguste with his foot, twisting around on the couch to look at him. “What does that mean?”

Auguste was quiet. “I think I’m supposed to say that I’ll step aside. That I’ll--not contest it, if you want to divorce me and marry her. That I’ll still pay her tuition and not fight Laurent’s inheritance. That I’ll play happy uncle to your children.”

“What are you--”

“But I won’t do it, Damen,” said Auguste, sounding fierce. “I want you, and I’m going to fight for it and I will use every last tool at my disposal--”

Damen reached up a hand and interrupted Auguste with a finger on his lips. “I think that’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me.” His hand on Auguste’s face was the one with his wedding ring. Auguste caught his fingers and placed his fingertips on the ring.

“If you divorce me, Damen,” said Auguste, “I’m going to take you for every cent you have.”

Damen smiled. “I love you too.”

They didn’t speak of it, further, though Damen noticed Auguste wearing his wedding ring more frequently than he usually did, and in bed they had an interlude free from many of Auguste’s obsessions with something kinky and instead spent a lot of time making out and slowly jerking each other off.

Laurent came back for a week for her spring break. Damen offered to go pick her up at the airport, because he wasn’t needed at the bakery that late in the afternoon, and he’d spent a year basically being Laurent’s chauffeur before she’d been old enough to learn how to drive herself when needed. But Auguste said he’d come too, and so they parked at the airport and waited out by the baggage claim for her to come out, and as they were waiting Auguste put his arms around Damen’s waist and rested his head on Damen’s shoulder in an unusually affectionate public display.

They went home, and Damen made pizza crust while Laurent stirred tomatoes in a pan, and then they ate pizza and Damen went to clean up in the kitchen.

In the hall, he could hear Auguste and Laurent having a whole conversation with different inflections of the same word.

“Hey,” she said which meant, why are you being weird.

“Hey,” Auguste said back, challenging.

“Hey,” she said again, softer, which said she was worried.

And he kissed her lightly, and said, “Hey,” slow and deep, which told her not to worry and invited moving things into the bedroom.

Then Laurent said, her voice pitched slightly louder to carry, “Damen?” and he left the rest of the dirty dishes in the sink to follow them.

In the bedroom, Laurent had some kind of game, which wasn’t unusual. She often had ideas for games. Sometimes she had roles for each of them to play. 

One time Damen had to pretend to be a repairman coming to fix the sink--which hadn’t been broken. She had made him go outside the apartment with a set of tools (he didn’t know where they had come from, it was impossible to understand why Auguste had a set of tools), and knock on the door, and then she had let him in with a lot of wide-eyed comments about how her brother wasn’t home and she was all by herself, and then she’d shown him the sink. Trying to play along, Damen had said, “What’s the problem with it?” but she had just shrugged and stood way too close to him while he tried the water.

Of course the sink worked fine. “It seems fine,” he told her.

“Maybe it leaks, underneath?” she said. Everything she said sounded filthy when she said it like that, but Damen obligingly opened up the cabinet under the sink and looked under it. 

“I don’t see anything.”

She leaned on his back. “Are you sure?”

“Laurent, I don’t actually know anything about plumbing,” Damen had said, exasperated, “and the sink isn’t even broken!”

“I think the problem might be in the bedroom,” she said, still in her character-voice, and he had left the tools in the bathroom and carried her off into the bedroom while she fake-squealed about how her brother was going to come home any minute.

Auguste hadn’t interrupted them, though he did trip over one of the wrenches Damen had left in the bathroom later and complained a lot.

Another time, she had been the one leaving the house, as she’d wanted to play call-girl and client--clients, actually, Auguste has been there also--and then she and Auguste had haggled over rates for anal more than half an hour.

Both she and Auguste liked playing doctor, though they switched up roles sometimes. Auguste had a speculum that he sometimes used to open her up--he usually made Damen be the ‘nurse’--though other times they decided that Damen was the patient and Auguste directed Nurse Laurent in performing a thorough inspection of Damen to ensure that his physical was comprehensive.

The game this time was kind of teacher-student, Damen thought, in that Laurent kept saying “Sir” and talking about how she was going to do better next time, but it also apparently involved punishing her for something she’d done wrong, and she fake-pouted obviously before crawling onto his lap slowly. Damen rubbed her ass a little, because he was more into touching her than he was any of her particular games, and then he swatted her a few times because she was obviously wanting it, and she fake-shrieked and protested and then both of them ended up laughing.

Laurent’s attention turned then, to Auguste, who was on the bed with them but not participating in the game. “What?” she said, turning to him.

He shrugged.

“Maybe we should--” Damen was ready suggest doing something else.

Laurent kept poking Auguste. “Why are you like this?” she said, sounding genuinely irritated.

“I’m going to take a shower--” Auguste said, standing up from the bed. It was a time when Damen would have let him retreat--he would have not pressed even up to this point, probably--but Laurent caught Auguste’s arm and held onto it. He pulled her a few inches across the bed, trying to get away. 

“Communication is important, Auguste, why won’t you talk to me?” she said.

Auguste turned back toward the bed, and jerked his arm free of her grip. “I’m not into it, Laurent,” he shouted. “You have no idea and you don’t understand. I don’t want some game where we play slap you a few times. I want to _wreck_ you,” he said, emotion his voice high. He threw the words at her like weapons. “I want to take you apart until you’re crying over my lap because you can’t do anything else--I want to tie you up and use a cane--I want to do things to you that I’d kill anybody else for even thinking about wanting to do to my sister!”

Auguste was red in the face and yelling and breathing heavily next to the bed. Laurent was sitting on the bed in front of him and seemed preternaturally calm. 

“That’s why I’m not into that,” said Auguste finally, waving his hand at her and Damen to encompass her game.

Laurent got up on her knees on the bed in front of him. “But I could be into _that_ ,” she said.

“You could be,” said Auguste, echoing. “But are you?”

Laurent took two kneeling steps closer to the edge of the bed where he was. “Try me.”

Auguste was looking into her eyes, intently, and then, suddenly enough that it made Damen gasp, he struck her across the face. 

Her head turned to the side, and his hand lowered, and she looked back toward him. Damen looked at Auguste, and he could see a flash of something in Auguste’s eyes that was maybe regret.

Laurent raised her hand, and then, a second slap echoed in the room, as she struck Auguste across the face. Damen gasped again.

Laurent’s retaliation began a physical struggle between the two of them. Auguste tackled Laurent onto the bed, trying to use his weight to pin her and capture her hands in his grip, while Laurent struggled wildly, kicking at him, scratching him with her free hand, bucking up to try to get him off of her.

Damen had no idea what to do. He felt vaguely like he ought to try to separate them, maybe? But he had no idea how he could actually do that, and they didn’t seem to be inflicting any permanent damage on each other.

Most of the struggle was Auguste getting Laurent out from underneath him on her back to try to haul her onto her stomach over his lap. He managed to drag down her underwear in the struggle as well, and so as soon as Auguste had Laurent half positioned, he raised one of his hands and brought it down on her ass, hard. 

It wasn’t the playful spanking that Damen had tried earlier as part of the game, Auguste was serious and Laurent was still bucking and fighting against him. Auguste had her wrists in one of his hands and was holding them pressed against the bed on one side of his legs. 

He was spanking her with his other hand, a series of blows that fell over various parts of her ass as he varied his aim and she squirmed on his lap. One of them fell particularly hard, the slap louder sounding even to Damen’s ears, and her mouth fell open and then she closed it down around Auguste’s forearm, biting him.

Auguste snatched his arm away, and she got one of her hands free in the struggle but he caught hold of the other and twisted her arm behind her own back for more leverage.

Laurent struggled a lot, and gradually her efforts wound down until she flopped, shivering, into Auguste’s lap and just took it.

Auguste began a constant stream of dirty talk. How good she was taking it, how hard it was making him. All the other ideas he had for what he was going to do to her. He wanted to use a paddle on her ass instead of his hand, he said, and maybe put a plug inside her ass first before he did it, and he could tie her hands so he could have both of his hands free.

Laurent kind of shuddered. At one point, he stopped hitting her, and slid two fingers down in between her legs. “You’re so wet, you slut, you love this,” he said, and that seemed to be true, given that it seemed to take him less than thirty seconds to make her orgasm in his lap against his hand. She arched a little as she came, and then Auguste started spanking her again, and after a dozen more blows he used his fingers a second time, and as she arched in her second orgasm Damen could see that her face was starting to be a little bit wet.

Auguste seemed to be winding down, now. There was as much lingering touching of her ass going on as there were occasional hits. She sobbed out loud as Auguste rubbed her clit, and Auguste quieted her ruthlessly. “Shh, you’re fine.” But when she choked down her sob and shivered with pleasure in his lap instead, he stopped touching her only to slap her again. 

He had let go of her after she stopped struggling, so that now her hands were free, and she was just reaching for him and grabbing to cling to him, not trying to dislodge him, but just holding on. 

Damen watched, dumbstruck and a little bit turned on, not sure if he was watching them get off harder than they ever had before, or if they were self-destructing right in front of his eyes.

Eventually, Auguste moved Laurent off his lap and put her face down on the bed. He knelt over her thighs, spreading her legs a bit, and rubbing his cock where she was soaked from his hands. He thrust his cock inside her a couple of times. “You’re so wet, you slut,” he said, and then, his cock slick from insider her, he withdrew and instead pushed his cock into her ass.

Laurent made a desperate sound, at that, her hands clawing at the bedsheets. She moaned as though she were orgasming a third time. Auguste kept touching her ass--which was red and had to feel aflame--while he was fucking her.

“Brother,” she said. “Please--” she managed Auguste’s name with a kind of hiccup-whimper right in the middle of it.

After Auguste got off, it was strangely like a switch was flipped. His tone was suddenly different. His words were still about how filthy Laurent was and how much she liked what they were doing, but his hands were tender, and he was holding her gently and comforting her shivers. He lay down on the bed on his back and pulled Laurent on top of him and rubbed her back soothingly.

Damen watched them for a long moment, and then he crawled across the bed, slowly stretching out next to them. He felt very uncertain. Was the fight--over? Had they really been fighting? Was Laurent mad? Was Auguste mad?

Auguste stretched a hand over and found his way into Damen’s boxers, and Damen arched into it a little bit as Auguste jerked him off. Damen looked over at them while Auguste touched him. Auguste’s expression was self-satisfied and smug. Laurent also looked satisfied, she was watching Auguste touch Damen with a hum of approval. 

Damen finished, and Auguste wiped his hand off on Damen’s boxers and took his arm back. He looked at his forearm, and the bite mark there from Laurent’s teeth, and he said, offended, “You bit me.”

Naturally Laurent bit him again, on his pec because it was right where her head was resting. “My ass hurts,” she said, in justification.

Even the mention of it caused Auguste to look smug and satisfied again.

When Damen awoke the next morning, Auguste and Laurent were still sleeping, wrapped up in each other figuratively and literally. Damen went to work out.

When he was finished, he went to the bathroom to shower, and came across Laurent making a pretty picture. She was wearing a tank top and her hair was messy. Her panties were on the floor. She was kind of turning a bit, in what would look like a pose, except she was clearly just trying to see her own ass in the mirror, and she had one hand covered in cream and touching herself softly, spreading the cream around.

“Morning sweetheart,” Damen said, smiling broadly.

She saw him, blushed faintly, and then looked imperious. “You should help me.”

This ended up with Damen kneeling on the bathroom floor, his hands covered in the same cream she had been applying, rubbing her while he ate her out. She had one leg awkwardly propped on the bathroom counter and was kind of riding his mouth; it was astoundingly hot.

He kind of knew that it was a bad idea to fuck her while she was still covered in the cream, but she was begging for it. Auguste was always wiping people down during sex; he would have wiped Laurent off first, certainly, but Damen thought Auguste was a bit finicky and Laurent was really wet and pink in front of him and his cock was hard and she hadn’t really gotten a good fucking the night before, either, since Auguste had just teased her with a few strokes before he went in her ass.

He fucked her sitting on the bathroom counter, until she said, “Damen, no, the counter is too hard on my ass,” and she turned around and bent over the counter instead, her toes touching the floor, and he fucked her longer from behind.

That gave him an excellent view of her ass, which was still pink from the day before, and he touched it gently while he fucked her.

“Are you close?” she said, finally, looking at him in the mirror.

Damen looked up and met her eyes and had to confess that he was not. “I think I got some of that cream on my cock.”

“Ugh, I’m done,” said Laurent. 

“But--” said Damen, and she just waved her hand at him and stepped into the shower.

Damen tried wiping his cock off then, but he was still hard, and he wandered back to the bedroom hopefully. 

Auguste laughed a little at him, and seemed to like the idea that Laurent was too sore to be fucked for a long time. 

“It was a long time,” Damen said. “Like an hour.”

“That’s good,” said Auguste. “Wear her out.”

“I’m still hard,” said Damen.

“I’ll fuck you,” Auguste offered.

“But I want to fuck,” said Damen, sounding like a whiny child even to himself.

“If I can’t get you off fucking you, you can fuck me next,” Auguste said, which was a common enough bargain he offered, and he probably offered it because he reliably always got Damen off while fucking him and never had his own ass on the line.

Damen was desperate enough to take the offer, and he agreeably got on his hands and knees in front of Auguste on the bed.

Auguste’s bargain didn’t go the way it usually did, though, and when Laurent emerged from the shower, she found Auguste with his legs on Damen’s shoulders, taking it hard.

She looked interested. “I like this,” she told Auguste.

“You would,” he said, bracing his arms against the headboard. “I’m not even going to have to work out today.”

Damen was in a bit of a haze. He felt like he had been fucking forever. “I think I’ve been having sex for seven hours,” he said.

“It’s only ten,” said Laurent. “When did you get up?”


	21. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Nikandros gets married, Damen remains very much in love, heavy-handed allusions to the source canon abound, and the author attempts to give some minor sense of conclusion to a fic which was basically a bunch of sex scenes.

Auguste’s sister was playing him. Damen could tell. She was playing everyone. She was the most beautiful person at Nikandros and Elle’s wedding, and she had anyone she wanted wrapped around her finger. 

Laurent ate three pieces of cake (from Damen’s bakery, of course), danced with everyone, took credit for having introduced Elle and Nikandros at Damen’s bakery, when they had come in separately for coffee and pastries, drank too much champagne, caught the bouquet, and laughed in a way that made Damen’s heart clench a little bit. He was sitting next to Auguste with his own glass of champagne, and Auguste was touching his wedding band and watching her also.

Laurent talked to Halvik, and then wandered over to Damen and Auguste to report on the conversation. 

“Halvik told me I have ‘nice eyelashes, like a cow.’”

“I’ve always thought that,” said Auguste, straight-faced.

Laurent stuck out her tongue at him. 

“She also asked if I want to intern at the law firm,” said Laurent, taking Damen’s champagne glass. “Next summer. I said yes.” 

Auguste said something agreeable.

“How late do you guys want to stay?” said Laurent, eyeing the dance floor. “Another half hour and then we get out of here?” she said.

“Sure,” said Damen, and Laurent wandered off, past where Pallas and Lazar were ostensibly dancing but really just feeling each other up in public. 

“They’ll be next,” Auguste had said earlier, even though Laurent had caught the bouquet. “I told Lazar to get his act together.”

Damen squeezed Auguste’s hand, his eyes still on Laurent. She was twenty years old, and his husband’s sister, and even if things had been different, it would have still been impossible.


End file.
